Whoever you are
by AkiraRedtiger
Summary: Whoever you are, you're hurt. Physically or mentally. Or both. Are you even still you? The fight is over, the pain should be over too. Loki knows it's not that easy, but still... [Immediate sequel to Whatever-its-name]
1. Nothing but a lie

**Welcome everyone!**

**This short story (I think between 3 and 5 chapters) is set up right after my main fic, Whatever-its-name. It's not the "real sequel" if I may say, more like an OS that became incredibly huge. Of course, I would advise you to read Whatever-its-name before reading Whoever you are, except if you love spoilers. And for those who just take a look out of pure curiosity, you might get quite confused, but welcome anyway!**

**All characters belong to Marvel. I draw some inspiration from comics, especially Thor 2018 and Loki 2019. The only exception is my OC.**

**Before you continue, some things to keep in mind:**

**\- Things are going to get dark at a point (like, in the next chapter). This story is about dealing with physical and (mostly) psychological trauma in the immediate aftermath, so you're in for some disturbing moments.**

**\- Lots of discussions, not much action. And some humour too! Yeah, it's not 100% angst either!**

**Also, reading reviews always feels great! Either to see that my work is supported, or that it's criticized, because in both cases, people pay attention to it, and that's awesome.**

**Be awesome, stay awesome.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The rain has not stopped for hours, and it is starting to have visible effects on the two Midgardians next to him.

"I hate Monday mornings." The first Midgardian, sometimes known as Tony Stark, sighs.

"It is Friday afternoon." The other one, namely the definitely-not-sarcastic-enough Bruce Banner, placidly reminds him.

"Still counts."

Loki, Prince of Asgard, rightful King of Jotunheim and God of Mischief, finds himself forced to endure Stark's babble, at least until he gets what he came for.

No matter which day it is, at this precise timing, Stark is always making coffee, and it is quite good.

Few things are quite good, to Loki's opinion, when it comes to the Avengers' facility. In which he is more or less forced to reside, for what he hopes will only be a very short period of time.

The least anyone can say is that the last couple of weeks has not been easy. The story goes that the Avengers, or the Earth's mightiest heroes (who said _pompous_?) have defeated Thanos, brought back the half of living beings whose existence he had literally snapped away (minus the countless losses due to the immediate consequences of this event), and sought shelter in their compound (which definitely does not live up to the height of the Stark Tower, literally and figuratively speaking, though Loki will never say that out loud). Everyone is happy. The end.

Of course, it is not the end. And of course, this is not how the story goes. It just lacks two tiny little details...

One of them is a god who never seems to die for good. Loki's latest trick on death has been to enter a dimension which existence he had never been aware of, and which has appeared to be strongly correlated to the Infinity Stones, the Very Core of the Universe and All That.

The other detail is the reason why he is _here_ (the Avengers' compound) and not _there_ (this white, silent and empty dimension, legitimately called Whatever-its-name). That detail's name is Morgan. _Morgan La Fay_, as she likes herself to be called. Snake-catcher, literature fan, talented sailor (or so she says), and wielder of powerful psychic powers conferred by the Soul Stone, as a side note.

There you go. Loki and Morgan, enemies of Thanos and heroes of the entire Universe.

If only.

The reality is rather, wait, what were Stark's words, ah yes, _Morgan and Loki, who never shut up but kind of saved us_. True, Stark has summed up well, and maybe he has enjoyed to see Nick Fury's composure instantly vanish upon seeing him, who has kind of invaded New-York with an army of aliens a handful of years ago. In any case, after quite a heated discussion, involving a consequent number of headaches, everyone has more or less agreed that both Loki and Morgan would remain in the Avengers' fortress until further notice.

Talk about saving the world, what you get is monitored residence, waiting for trial. Great.

So, few things are quite good about this turn of events, but one of them, surprisingly, is Stark making coffee. Even after having lost his left arm, upon destroying the Infinity Gauntlet, the man appears surprisingly dexterous. Loki knows that he is already working on mechanical arm prototypes, and that this even gave him the idea of launching a new type of high-tech protheses. To say that it is Captain America who has the reputation of being an optimist.

"Want sugar?" Stark asks, not to him, but to Banner, who politely nods in response.

As for Loki, Stark knows by now (why, by the Norns, would he put _sugar_, or even worse, _milk_ in this beverage?). He has doubtlessly noticed the god's recurrent presence in the compound common room towards the middle of the afternoon, every day, which he always greets with a silent, but visibly satisfied face.

However, as soon as the Midgardian grabs his own mug (on it is written _I am Iron Man_, and Loki does not even want to comment on that), he briskly flinches, and the empty cup shatters on the floor.

Banner immediately raises from the couch, as the inventor holds his left shoulder, wincing and panting. Loki does not move. Not that he does not want to offer his assistance to Stark, but because he knows the latter would refuse it. The God of Mischief is tolerated by most of the Avengers, but trusted by few. Not so surprising. Although Stark probably is the one accepting him the most when he enters a room, it takes another level of confidence to ask for help in such a situation of vulnerability.

"Phantom pain?" Banner rapidly questions, his tone indicating that he already knows the answers.

"Yeah." Stark mutters, his back against the wall and his eyes closed, while the doctor hands him a glass of water with whatever sort of painkiller.

It takes him long seconds to recover a steady breath. What the Midgardian is experiencing is by no means exceptional. Many who have lost a limb feel sudden and painful sensations, often described as a reopening of the wound. Experienced healers on Asgard have devised remedies to make such aches disappear, however, though Loki is able to make the pain temporarily go away, he is not specialized enough in this arcane of magic to erase it permanently.

"Yay." Stark grunts "I'm on opioids 24/7, my mug's broken and it's raining. I'm actually starting to hate Fridays too."

"_Should I take it personally_?" The robotic voice ironically inquires, which draws a smile on Loki's face.

He has gotten used to the presence of Stark's AI, which he found irritating at first, then rather entertaining. But for the time being, Loki starts to think that he is not noticed enough, and well, a little reminder of his presence would not be a bad idea.

A swift movement of his right hand suffices, as he continues sipping his drink, and the pieces of the broken cup start to raise from the kitchen floor, to progressively come closer to one another on the worktop, and re-create the shape of a perfectly flawless recipient. Stark and Banner are rooted to the spot, mouth gaping open, and of course Loki cannot resist impressing them even more. He does not bring the coffee pot close to the mug. That would be too easy. No, it is the liquid itself that levitates above the container, and slowly hovers towards the cup.

"Okay... Okay..." Banner mumbles, and Loki gracefully acknowledges the fact that the Midgardian is too stunned to pronounce anything else.

"Any other power you might wanna show off?" Stark queries, more out of curiosity than of annoyance.

But Loki does not have the time to answer, as the AI's voice resonates again in the common room.

"_Sorry to interrupt, boss. You have a message from colonel Rhodes_."

From what Loki has heard, the man has gone to a place named Washington D.C., the capital city of the country they are standing on, to try to give a basic explanation of the current situation to their rulers.

"Alright, what does Rhodey say?"

"_You have a message from Secretary Ross_."

"Come on Friday, Rhodes's message first, otherwise this will never end."

"_This is the message: 'You have a message from Secretary Ross'. Actually, you currently have sixty-two unread messages from this same person, which includes texts, emails and voicemails. Colonel Rhodes thought it useful to remind you of their existence_."

Loki smirks as Stark lets a very exhausted sigh slip.

"_I took the liberty to summarize the most useful information of every single message_." The benevolent AI continues "_Secretary Ross informs you that the Avengers will soon be required to hold a press conference, to inform the world about the recent events_."

"Oh boy..." Stark hisses "And what does 'soon' mean?"

"_Tomorrow, boss_."

"Seriously?!" The inventor shouts.

"You're kidding?!" Bruce Banner reacts.

"_I am designed not to be sarcastic in times of dire need_."

The doctor pinches his eyebrows arch, and Stark seems to be done with pretty much everything. Loki almost pities them. As if the atmosphere is not depressing enough, the thunder rumbles again, followed by an even heavier rain.

"Please, someone gives me any good news. Anything." Stark grumbles.

"... Don't worry, I'm sure he will find a way." A very well-known voice starts to echo in the corridor leading to the common room "It would be an amazing addition to your ship."

That very well-known voice is Loki's equivalent of good news. For Stark and Banner, it depends. Morgan seems to get along well with the two of them, yet, most of the Avengers remain cautious when they talk to her, sometimes even more than with Loki himself. Not completely understanding her powers makes them uneasy, and Morgan still appears reluctant to disclose personal information. Loki cannot blame her for that. She is a cautious person. Also, a bit of an insane one, from time to time.

"Good afternoon, Mr Stark." She greets upon entering the room "Doctor Banner. God of Mischief."

Her last sentence is illustrated by an exaggerated bow, and Loki plays along, raising his cup in a fake benevolent manner.

Morgan knows that it irks most people around her, when she is acting in what they describe as such a childish way, so she cannot resist finding new ways to tease them.

How could Loki _not_ like her?

Morgan is not alone, though. Next to her is the colourful team named the Guardians of the Galaxy (who said _even more pompous_?), which both her and Loki tend to appreciate more than the Avengers. Obviously, since neither of them happens to be one of their former opponents, communication is made much easier. Especially with the racoon.

"It's lively here." The latter sneers.

"They are upset." Mantis, the living embodiment of _stating the obvious_, thinks necessary to point out.

"Thanks for the info, I didn't notice..." Stark snarls, before turning to Morgan again "You wanted to ask something?"

"Not anything urgent, just wondering if you were able to install Spotify on the spaceship you're helping them design." She shrugs.

Loki does not know what she is talking about, but it does not matter, the inventor's face is priceless.

"I... Yeah... No... Maybe... But... Why..." He articulates out of utter confusion.

"I was just thinking, it's really sad that you guys have only one cassette tape." She tranquilly explains "And don't get me wrong, your music is great, really, it is, but..."

"Hey, to be clear, we've got not one but two tapes, okay?" Peter Quill corrects, clearly showing that on his music depends his honour.

Oh, well. Loki has seen worse.

"Fine!" Morgan rolls her eyes "But there's an entire world out there that you still have to explore, so you know, if there's a _possibility_ to also make other planets discover Earth, Wind & Fire, why not take it?"

"Wait!" Stark interrupts "Basically, you're suggesting to turn their spaceship into a galaxy-level broadcasting station?"

"Yes. Cool mug, by the way."

And then, Stark does not even know who to be the most furious at, Morgan or Loki, when taking a look at his coffee cup, now displaying _I am the Iron Person_.

Loki's gaze meets Nebula's eyes, and he discreetly winks at her when he sees a small smile on her most-of-the-time gloomy face. Apparently, the cyborg has gotten quite close to Morgan, but she remains quite reserved when surrounded by a wider audience.

"Anyway, break's over kids, because we've got a situation here." Stark declares.

"What kind?" Another voice asks.

It is Clint Barton's. The archer is closely followed by Natasha Romanov, as well as Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximov, probably all summoned by Stark's AI. If Loki has come to know more about the two former SHIELD agents, he has learnt little about the two other members of the Avengers. As for Wilson, the reason is quite simple: the man never talks to him. The rare times Loki has merely stepped in the same room, he has been greeted with nothing more than a stern gaze. What does Wilson exactly want from him, apologies? Hard to guess, if he does not even open his mouth. Good enough. The god is ready to make some compromises, but not to that extent.

Concerning Maximov, the situation is more ambiguous. The woman rarely talks, to anyone. The only person she seems to open to, from time to time, is actually Barton. From what Loki has heard, her lover is among those who were not brought back after the Snap. However, he cannot deny that he is intrigued by her. Out of the five other people with whom Loki has shared the Infinity Stones raw power, experiencing all imaginable levels of pain, she is the one he knows the least about. Undeniably, such an ordeal has created some kind of relation between the six wielders, something that Loki cannot picture clearly, but which feels like an instinct to recognize them as allies, and not as threats. Sure, with or without this mysterious connection, he would never feel the urge to attack Morgan, but this presentiment is also true, though to a lesser extent, for Peter Quill and Nebula, even for the Midgardian sorcerer, Steven Strange, whom Loki does not appreciate by any mean, yet sort of _knows_ that he cannot truly wish him harm. And, indeed, for Wanda Maximov.

Who is now settling next to him, ready to listen to the _situation_.

"The thing is... Hey, by the way, any idea about when Thor & co are supposed to come back?" Stark suddenly asks him, as most people are still busy taking a seat.

"You should know by now that 'organized' is not exactly part of my brother's vocabulary." Loki answers evasively.

It is an understatement. Along the course of the week, the God of Thunder has been coming back and forth between the Avengers' facility and the provisory Asgardian settlement in Wakanda, joined by Valkyrie and, as for the present day, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. To sum it up, if Loki knows when Thor leaves, he is as clueless as anyone else about when he returns.

"Mmh, point taken." Stark admits "So, apparently, tomorrow we've got to tell the entire world about all this mess. If anyone has any clue about how to do it, be my guest."

A telling silence follows.

"Perhaps..." Morgan starts to speak, which is instantly followed by a pained expression on at least half of the audience's faces "You could omit the Stones?"

"What?!" Nebula exclaims.

"Hold on, you're suggesting that the Infinity Stones, a mere _detail_ in the fight against Thanos, should not be evoked _at all_?" Barton insists.

"Yeah, the Stones are kind of the entire point of everything that happened." Peter Quill reminds.

"Sure." Morgan shrugs, not destabilized the slightest "But now, whether we like it or not, they are gone no one knows where. Personally, I'm not a great fan of telling everyone _hey, there are six weapons of mass destruction playing hide and seek in Space, go fetch_."

"Your faith in humanity is breath-taking." Sam Wilson remarks.

"I would rather say realistic." Morgan quips back.

"Come on, could we try to have a discussion which does _not_ involve any death threat, for once?" Banner tries to pacify.

"That's setting high standards." Rocket snickers.

"And it wouldn't be a real discussion." Drax adds.

"Actually, that's the entire point of a discussion." Quill corrects "You know, using words instead of punches?"

"You're not going to punch anyone with words, Quill."

"Guys, it's not..." Banner tries again, and cannot even continue.

Loki starts to think that he should have brought this indispensable Midgardian supply called popcorn, to fully enjoy this distraction.

"What are they even doing here, anyway?" Barton questions, eyeing the Guardians.

"He's right. This talk is useless." Nebula asserts, with her usual tact.

"Well, no one asked you to come." Barton replies.

"The Fried Egg did." Mantis intervenes.

"It's _Friday_, for God's sake." Stark sighs.

"Since we don't have much time, better keep things simple." Romanov judiciously argues "And I have to say that... I agree with Morgan. The focus should first be on Thanos, not on the Stones."

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki notices both surprise and satisfaction on Morgan's face.

"Nat, are you advising we lie to the entire world?" Banner uneasily repeats.

"I'm saying... The mere existence of such devastating weapons shouldn't be disclosed so hastily." The former spy elusively rectifies.

Loki lets a cynical laughter slip.

"What, something to say?" Wilson snaps on an exasperated tone, which is more than enough for the god of Mischief to continue.

"Call things as they are." He grins "You just want to craft a different truth, don't you? Well, _that_ is nothing but a lie."

"Fortunately, you're a specialist in the subject." The man disdainfully spits.

"Hey, shut it, both of you." Stark orders, visibly at his wit's end.

"Shouldn't we just wait for Thor and Cap to discuss it?" Banner proposes, before Loki has the time to reply to the inventor, who apparently believes that everyone will obey him to the letter.

"You know, maybe things aren't always what they seem, but I don't think lying, err, sorry, _telling a convenient truth_, is the area which those two excel in." Rocket sarcastically points out.

"Couldn't have said it better." Loki approves.

"I don't get what you're trying to do."

Every single pair of eyes in the room instantly turns to the person on Loki's left, whom they have not heard since the beginning of the conversation.

Wanda Maximov has spoken with a very slow and cold voice. Her gaze is stern, though not directed at anyone in particular.

"For days on end, half of the planet has been gone." She carries on "Bringing it back has not solved everything. There is no _back to normal_..."

Her voice is starting to break, and Loki sees that she is clenching her right fist so hard that her knuckles are turning white. Even stranger, he catches some glimpses of flickering red light around it.

"Whatever truth you present them with, people won't care." She concludes.

No one seems willing to object. The woman suddenly surveys the room, as if realizing that she was not alone all this time. Then, without a word, she stands up and walks out, fists still tightly closed.

"Do you think we should..." Banner starts.

"No. Better leave her for now." Barton assures.

"Well... Guess we'll wait for Cap." Stark deduces, eyes closed, massing his temples.

Several conversations begin, in an effort to alleviate the bleak atmosphere. Loki's attention, however, is attracted by something entirely different.

On the large window on his left, he can see a thin, long crack, slowly expanding diagonally, until it finally stops at mid-height. A dim red sparkle glows around it for an instant, before vanishing.

Hm.


	2. We are all mad here

**Hello again!**

**Thank you very much for your reviews, Marsha O'Connor and CurtisMcQueen8, it really motivated me to finish this chapter, much earlier than I expected!**

**/! Warning /! Thic chapter contains depictions of physical and psychological trauma, in the 3rd and 4th parts. **

* * *

"I am so fed up of all this..." Morgan sighs.

"And yet, you are holding on quite well. Were it not for your presence, I would have turned the whole lot of them into toads." Loki snickers.

"Now, I desperately want to see that."

The two of them are walking side-by-side in the corridor, away from the common room, alone. Only by Morgan's side can Loki feel truly relaxed. No matter where he goes or what he does in the compound, he knows he is always watched, and that no one truly feels at ease in his presence. Even Thor, to a certain extent. Loki knows the God of Thunder has to balance his duties as a king and, more preoccupying, his responsibility as a brother if the God of Mischief's existence is to be disclosed to the public.

Every single perspective Loki is presented with does not sound very appealing. Either he complies with the Avengers' requirements, gaining a chance to become more than Thor's untrustworthy brother, either any mere opportunity of regaining some sort of control over his actions brands him as a criminal again, endangering Morgan's safety and his own.

"An armadillo."

"What?" Loki asks, taken aback by Morgan's sudden intervention.

"I was saying, toads are a good option, but a little overrated. I don't know why, but I really, _really_ see Stark as an armadillo."

"I do not even know what that is." Loki points out.

"YouTube, here we come."

Loki's smile grows even wider. Morgan really is the main reason why he can withstand everything else (although she sounds much less like the voice of reason than like a little demon perched on his shoulder, whispering "do it, do it, do it" every time mischief calls him). And she carries on;

"Banner would be a hamster, Black Widow a cute chipmunk, Hawkeye a pigeon, and Thor would walk in and say the _fuck_?!"

"I could still convince him that only by a true love kiss would they become human again."

Morgan's shoulders are shaken by laughter, and Loki has to say, he cannot even begin to imagine what she would be capable of, would she be able to use Asgardian magic.

"For now, may I content myself with kissing an inland taipan?" She winks.

Loki closes his eyes for a second, and when he reopens them, she jumps out of shock, which confirms him that his pupils have indeed grown much wider, surrounded by orange irises, just like the gaze of Midgard's most venomous snake.

"Oh, I see, staring contest it is!" She declares.

Her eyes start to take the familiar golden tint they display when she uses her powers, and she brings her head closer to him in an overdramatic defiant gesture.

"I would still very much like to be kissed." He taunts.

"Yesssssss." She jokingly hisses.

Upon feeling her lips against his, Loki thinks that he adores that, how eagerly she plays along, how she is surprised, sure, but never disturbed, by his constant experiments on his own appearance. And he is found of Morgan's multiple aspects too, from the focused, strategist face, to the witty, provoking, almost goofy one.

He wants her to stay with him, and yet understands how selfish it is, to ask her to literally and figuratively drop everything she has, be it a profession (and he must confess, being a snake-hunter fits the embodiment he has of the Midgardian notion of _cool_), or a place to live (well, the hottest place to live actually, in the middle of nowhere, also known as the Australian desert), even making simple actions, such as seeing her friend Som, much more difficult. Until now, he has assumed that her impressive adaptability made all of the above useless to mention.

Yet he realizes, rather, remembers, that Morgan, like him, is very good at pretending. And that he can be an idiot.

"Could we talk?" He impulsively, as always, suggests, after reluctantly breaking their kiss.

"Ouch." Morgan groans.

"Didn't think it would be that dreadful." He observes.

"Not... you..." She painstakingly articulates, putting her hand over her head.

"Migraine again?" Loki recalls.

"Yeah... Just need... My meds..."

Loki frowns, as she closes her eyes and takes long, deep breaths to calm her sudden pain. These _migraine attacks_, as she calls them, became increasingly frequent following the battle against Thanos, rather, following her encounter with the Soul Stone. Contrary to the other Stone wielders, Morgan had spent a long time connected to it, not to say _fused_ with it. And this is affecting her, in many ways. Loki noticed that she needs much more than the recommended prescription of medicines for a human her size, to make the headache go away. Will it ever stop? Or will it grow? Certainly, it is too early to say...

"Should I bring them to you?" He offers.

"I can still walk." She declines "I won't be long."

Good enough, because actually Loki does not even remember where she has put them.

As Morgan steps away, he thinks. About many things. The Stones, especially. As the Scarlet Witch put it, there is no possible _back to normal_. Bending the fabric of reality on such a large scale, not once but twice, surely had consequences. Some of them are visible, some others may not be. That, the god of Mischief concludes, means both new threats and new opportunities. Up to him to see what to make of them.

* * *

The wind caresses his face, pulling him out of his reflexions, and he notices that the sliding door to a balcony is open, revealing two things. First, that the rain has stopped, second, that someone is enjoying this sudden lull.

It is the first time he sees Wanda Maximov on her own, and he would not be Loki if he did not jump on the occasion.

"I don't think I'm the most entertaining company." The woman asserts on a morose tone, her back turned to him, contemplating whatever there is to contemplate from here (a lake and some kind of forest, at the very most).

Loki does not reply, slowly advancing on the wet ground.

"What are you exactly looking for?" She questions, still looking away.

"I was just eager to know what Midgardians describe as a witch." Loki presents.

She huffs, and waves her right hand, in a fashion similar to the god's. Waves of red light elegantly start to swirl around her fingers.

"Doesn't take a lot to be described as a witch, you know."

Loki nods, absent-mindedly. He knows.

"So... You're a wizard?" She adds, finally turning towards him.

"A sorcerer." Loki corrects "May I?"

Maximov acquiesces, and he leans against the balcony, at a respectable distance from her, but near enough to gain a better view of the frequent glances she gives him.

"How close am I to the picture you had of me?" He provokes.

"Not close at all." The woman smiles "Pretty far, actually."

"I heard you are quite a challenge for most living beings." Loki declares "Even for my mighty brother. It would be interesting, to say the least, to see if his weapon matches your strength."

She smiles again, visibly flattered. The God of Mischief cannot help wondering what the outcome of a clash between Storm-breaker and her telekinetic abilities would be.

"My strength didn't make any difference." She suddenly speaks "In the end, I couldn't protect anyone."

Loki watches with caution the red sparkles grow increasingly menacing, as they almost seem to have a mind of their own, battling furiously around her closed fist.

"Strong does not mean invincible." He carefully reminds "You may be able to burst through armours and to lift buildings from the ground, but can you make a knot?"

"A... knot?"

Loki smirks at her utterly confused look. He immediately illustrates his statement by conjuring a long, thin ribbon. It is made of a yellow Asgardian fabric, soft in his hand, and Maximov watches with incomprehension as it levitates in front of them.

No flash of green there. Telekinesis requires a tremendous amount of energy. Contrary to the Witch, Loki is only able to move what he can _physically_ move. But for such light objects, it does not take any toll on his body. Nevertheless, brute strength and sharp precision are two different things...

The ribbon twirls in the air, then creates the shape of a complex knot, before untying itself, and slowly falling into the woman's hand, around which the disturbing red flickers have disappeared.

Loki has to admit, he feels quite proud of the Witch's admirative look. On Asgard (and, apparently, on Midgard as well), strength is acclaimed when it is _shown_. Power has to be loud and visible. Yet, as his mother Frigga has once wisely put it, turning the lock of a door is as useful, if not more, than bursting it open.

"Your turn." He suggests.

Maximov looks at him hesitantly and moves her hand. Red light starts to shimmer around the ribbon as it raises in the air again. However, as soon as she tries to manipulate it, the piece of clothing is torn to shreds.

"I'm sorry!" She exclaims.

"No need to be." Loki shrugs "It is only your first attempt. Try to bring the pieces together."

She stares at the floor of the balcony, where yellow strips of fabric are spread, and moves her hand again. Yet, as soon as the red sparkles surround them, they do not move closer to one another, but are ripped apart in even smaller shreds.

"It is useless." The woman hisses "All I am good at is destroying. I can't... Fix... Anything..."

Loki starts to feel a disagreeable shiver down his back, as red lights glow even brighter around both her hands.

"Are you unwell?" He prudently queries.

"I'm fine." She hastily cuts "You should leave."

"You do _not_ seem fine, by any means." Loki observes.

He realizes his mistake when he sees the glow double in intensity.

"Just _leave_!" The Witch angrily shouts, briskly waving her right hand to illustrate her statement.

The problem is, it does much more than illustrate her statement.

Loki feels his body pushed away by a colossal force, which even blocks his breath, and roughly smashed against the wall. He barely has the time to take an inspiration that he sees the red light shining before his eyes, and diving straight into them.

* * *

It is fascinating. Hypnotizing. Almost... comforting.

But then, it starts to get threatening. Even more. Terrifying.

A shiver of pure fear runs down his spine, as the light imprisons every fibre of his body and mind, and does not let go.

"_You call yourself a king... You think yourself so strong... But your mind is so weak..."_

It hurts. It burns. His entire body is on fire, his skin is falling apart, his eyes are melting in their sockets, and he cannot even scream.

"_So easy to bend. Pathetic."_

The red light is eating him alive. It is biting his bones and chewing his guts.

"_It is not going to be over soon."_

What?

Suddenly, he can see again. And he sees... a mirror?

Gone is the pain, gone are the voices, there is just the mirror and him. A high, full-length mirror.

And...

And the white.

And the complete, total, infinite _white_.

"No..." He starts to mutter, choking out of panic "No, not that... It is not..."

"_It is not real_? Is that what you're about to say?"

It is his own voice. But it is not him.

"Are you sure it's not real?" His reflection continues, a sardonic smile on his lips "Doesn't it feel extremely, painfully real to you?"

It is him and it is not him. The Loki he sees is dressed in his green and golden battle outfit, with his helmet on. He seems satisfied. Even more, amused.

"You are not..." Loki starts "No, you cannot be... I... I am not..."

"Yes, you are. You are me, and I am you." Reflection-Loki grins "You know what we are?"

A hand suddenly clasps his neck, another one slams on his mouth, preventing him to speak.

Blue hands.

He turns his eyes to his right, where he meets a red gaze, in the middle a blue-skinned face, his _own_ face.

"We are all mad here." Frost-Giant Loki whispers in his ear.

"No... We... I..." Loki articulates "You're lying... I can't be... _Morgan_!" He calls.

Morgan knows what to do. She always comes. She will get him out. They have already gotten out. She will come.

"And... SURPRISE!" Morgan gleefully shouts.

But it does not reassure him. Not at all.

Because it is Morgan, instead of Frost-Giant Loki, who is now wrapped around him. It is Morgan, instead of Reflexion-Loki, who smirks at him through the looking-glass.

"Do you finally get it?" The first one susurrates.

"It took you time, didn't it?" The second snickers.

"Stop that. Whoever you are, stop that." He begs, unable to move.

"Whoever I am?" The first Morgan laughs "Oh my, I thought you were smarter than that."

"You really wanna hear it?" Reflection-Morgan asks "The reality is, you never escaped this place."

"Stop talking! STOP TALKING!" He yells.

"You're only talking to yourself, Loki." Reflection-Morgan smiles "Can't you see?! I am Infinity. And I will feed on your insanity..."

"For Eternity..." The first Morgan adds, slowly encircling him, as it is not Morgan anymore, but a giant, golden-eyed snake.

Its fangs bite his neck, deeply.

"Thor!" He calls, out of despair.

"_Thor_!" The snake mocks, in an exaggerated voice which resembles both his own and Morgan's.

It bites his necks again, even deeper. Loki screams out of pain, as he vainly tries to get it out of his neck. But the more he tries to pull, the more the reptile squeezes his throat, so much that he can hardly breathe.

But it is Thor he sees, when he turns his gaze to the mirror again. Loki rushes towards the glass, which seems to be more like a window, as the image of his brother is not staring at him, but walking away, his back turned on him.

"W-wait..." He articulates, choking under the pressure of the snake.

"Thor is Thor." The animal hisses again "He moves on. But Loki... stays Loki."

"Sh-shut... Shut up..." He chokes.

He feels the fangs plunging into his neck a third time, and digging into his flesh. Blood flows on his clothes like a waterfall.

As for Thor's reflection, it is walking further away, joined by other figures which Loki recognizes as Valkyrie, then some members of the Avengers, and then the Asgardians, without a single look behind him.

"Brother! Look... at... me!" He shouts again, repeatedly punching the glass out of sheer anguish, cutting his hands, even grabbing the shards to throw them away.

The mirror is completely shattered, and he is covered with blood, and Morgan is _gone_, and Thor is _gone_, and...

"And now, I can use some of those pieces." Thanos grins.

The Titan tranquilly walks from behind him, then picks a handful of blood-stained shards. Loki does not make on move to stop him. He remains on his knees, completely immobile.

"You made it _so_ easy." Thanos spits, before walking away.

Alright.

That's it.

Nothing ever changed.

Maybe he can cry, now. It doesn't matter, anyway.

There has never been anyone here.

* * *

"I'm sorry..."

He can smell the rain and feel the wet concrete under his hand. Feel. He can feel.

"What did you do to him?"

He is laying on the ground, his back against the wall, on the balcony, he remembers. His breath is jolty, and his eyes are still firmly shut.

He does not want to open them. He does not want to see _that_ again, whatever _that_ is.

"I never... I didn't want to..."

"What did you do?! ANSWER ME!"

Two different voices. He knows them, he is sure of that, but...

It is difficult to focus. His thoughts are slow and disordered. Even the air seems difficult to breathe.

The scream of pain is what makes him open his eyes.

The first image that comes to his mind, when seeing Morgan above Maximov, is that of a wolf about to devour its prey.

Her eyes are shining with an aggressive yellow, as she firmly maintains her grip on the younger woman's collar with one hand. The other is on top of the Scarlet Witch's forehead, right above her eyes. Maximov is laying on the ground, seemingly unable to move, and weakly moving her head in an effort to escape Morgan's gaze. The latter's face is deformed by rage, whereas Maximov displays nothing but terror. Loki notices that her nose is bleeding a little.

His arms and legs feel like made of uru metal. Moving seems like the hardest thing he will ever do. Why is Morgan...

It hits him like lightning. The red light. The pain. The fear.

"_It is not real."_

"_You never escaped this place."_

"_Stop talking!"_

He notices that he is shivering violently. He wants nothing else than to get up, and run away from here, as far as he can, away from the terrifying nightmare that is still haunting him.

"What... Did you... Do?!" Morgan yells again, and her eyes seem to become even brighter, which is immediately followed by another shout of pain from Maximov.

Loki guesses the Witch's intention, but he cannot scream, not even whisper. Cannot warn her.

Maximov briskly focuses on Morgan's left leg, not far from her face, which she instantly ensnares in flickering red lights.

Morgan lets out a barely audible exclamation of surprise before she is violently propelled against the concrete wall, head upside down, and stumbles in a heap of tangled limbs, like a rag doll.

Oh, right. Loki is still in this nightmare.

It is not real. Morgan is not here.

She cannot be unconscious.

She cannot be hurt.

She cannot be...

But everything seems _very_ real, to him. Maximov breathing heavily on the floor of the balcony. And Morgan laying in front of him, unmoving.

Wait, Loki wants to say, just wait a second, what exactly happened? Why all _that_? Wasn't _that_ supposed to be over? Weren't things supposed to get... better?

The simple thought of that word makes him want to throw up. He crawls towards Morgan and sees the blood.

It is at this precise moment that he thinks his brain stops functioning.

Her dark, tangled hair, are covered with red, thick blood, which also stains the right side of her head and her shirt. And the floor. And Loki's hands.

He mechanically puts pressure on the wound and can feel how large, how deep it is. Morgan's blood is warm and drips between his fingers.

The noise of a sob breaks the fog that surrounds him, and he turns his head on his left.

Wanda Maximov is crying. Her nose is still bleeding. She has not gotten up yet.

All of Loki's instincts scream _danger_.

She is strong. She is violent. She is unstable.

She hurt Morgan; this is the only thing that matters.

The second after, Loki is almost amazed by how rapidly his body has managed to rush right in front of the Witch.

"I'm sorry..." She whispers.

Loki does not care. He cannot care.

He firmly grabs her by the neck, and raises her from the ground. She starts to choke, and he only squeezes harder. Her attempts at clenching his arm and kicking him are ridiculously vain.

"I will _destroy_ you." He hears himself roar.

The door to the balcony bursts open, and he distinguishes several figures, which he does not even try to recognize. The sole priority is to get rid of _danger_.

"Holy shit!" A voice exclaims.

"Loki, drop her!" Another orders.

He only registers that he has been punched when he feels the stone floor under his head. His already blurry vision does not improve, and he has to squint several times to recognize the armour above him, aiming something that is very likely to hurt. As if anything could hurt him further.

"Seriously, don't make me do that." Stark warns.

But Loki's gaze is focused on the Witch. She is surrounded by Wilson and Romanov, and starts to cough loudly, before gasping for air.

She is alive. _Danger_.

He knows the chance to succeed is ridiculously small, yet he has no choice but to take it.

Loki dashes towards the woman. He is fast. He can still smash her skull against the ground.

A blinding pain in his back stops him after only two steps, cutting all eventuality to go further. His already weakened body cannot stand it, and when he falls, he knows he will not be able to stand up before a long time.

"Now, you _stay down_, or I shoot you again." Stark speaks, maintaining some sort of blaster against his forehead.

But Loki does not listen. He knows he is going to slip into unconsciousness within seconds. He has already lost sensation in his legs and arms. Words are distant, almost meaningless.

"What more do you want?!" Wilson shouts "Look at that! They just wanna stab us in the back!"

"Just call Bruce, okay?!" Stark yells.

Loki wants to laugh at how messed up everything has become.

He thinks he probably still has Morgan's blood on his hands.

And before collapsing, he sees a colossal rainbow in the sky.

_We are all mad here._


	3. Not the same thing

**Welcome!**

**Thank you again so much, Marsha O'Connor and CurtisMcQueen8, your comments are absolutely amazing to read and it makes me want to write more! So, let's see how everyone deals with such a mess...**

**_Morning. I'd offer you coffee, but we're in Hell..._ (Chloe, Life is Strange)**

* * *

"It seems like the Norns are growing increasingly sarcastic, these days." Loki weakly snickers, right after having opened his eyes.

Thor does not even answer. The god of Mischief is glad. He should not even have talked in the first place: His own voice is resonating at an unbearably loud volume in his own head.

He does not recognize the room in which he has just woken up. Elegant yet scarce furniture, including the bed on which he is currently lying, and a couch, from which his brother is uncomfortably staring at him.

Good news: he is not in a cell. Not yet. Not-so-good news: he can see Storm-breaker within easy reach of his brother.

When he straightens up a little, Loki barely represses a wince. Not only does the slightest move increases his headache tenfold, he also feels a painful twinge in the middle of his back, right where Stark has aimed a taser or the Norns know what.

But all of that -Thor, the Avengers, and his far from excellent physical state- are ridiculously futile. There is just one single thing that matters at the present moment.

"Where is she?" He asks Thor, on a tone he tries to make as firm as possible.

"Brother, we have to talk." The god of Thunder replies.

This sentence sends a surge of blinding fear which paralyses all of Loki's thoughts.

If Morgan is... If she is...

The next second, with no memory at all of how he has ended up here, Loki is standing right in front of the door, with his brother's hand holding his shoulder, to prevent him from stepping outside.

"Whether you like it or not, Thor, I will get out of this room." Loki warns, on a very calm and very furious tone.

"Your Lady, Morgan." Thor immediately replies "She has been taken care of. Bruce assured she is not in danger."

The wave of relief is almost as powerful, and for the split of a second, Loki feels like he is going to collapse, under so many contradictory sensations. His brother must have guessed it, somehow. Probably because it is not so hard to guess.

"I am sorry." Thor apologizes "I should have told you right from the start. I know you are going to see her and that there is nothing I can do to prevent you from doing so."

"Sometimes, you can be quite perceptive."

"Please." His brother insists, intensifying his grip on his shoulder when Loki tries to let go of it "We _have_ to talk. Give just me five minutes."

"Two." Loki corrects.

"Three." Thor concedes.

"Fine." The god of Mischief huffs.

Thor immediately releases him and Loki reluctantly steps away from the door. His next move, however, is to conjure a finely crafted hourglass on the bedside table, which the king of Asgard looks at with bewilderment;

"Seriously?"

"Two minutes and fifty-five seconds." Loki shrugs.

"Then, by the Nine Realms, tell me what happened!" The god of Thunder angrily shouts "How could you?!"

"How could I?!" Loki replies, even louder "Do you really think that I attacked the Witch?! She is the one you should ask such question!"

"She cannot talk now." His brother reminds "Because you almost suffocated her, remember?"

Oh, if Thor thinks he is going to apologize for that, he will wait for a long, long time. Loki would gladly do it again if this can ensure Morgan's safety.

"Steve and the others wanted to lock you up immediately." Thor informs "I convinced them to wait for explanations."

Ah yes. The Avengers, user instructions: Punch first, talk second.

"Brother..." Thor asks again, on a softer tone "Did Wanda... Do anything to you and Morgan?"

Red light.

Red light and pain. Red light and fear. Red light and _absolute terror_.

Loki painstakingly releases the breath he has been holding. A part of him wants nothing else than begging his brother for comfort, to make these unspeakable nightmares fade away. And yet, he knows that he will never speak of this. He cannot be... He just has been offered a chance to be seen as Thor's equal. He cannot be afraid. He cannot be weak.

"Loki..." Thor starts, making him realize that he must have been lost in his thoughts for a moment "Years ago, I... Well, Wanda was not on the same side than us, and... Let's say I know what her powers can provoke."

_Do you_, Loki wants to insist, _do you really know that_?

But he simply cannot say anything.

"I just have to know." Thor demands "Swear to me neither you nor Morgan attacked her on purpose."

"I swear it." Loki whispers.

Does Thor trust him? Does Thor _really_ trust him?

"Last room on the right." The god of Thunder feebly smiles, opening the door "Banner told me she will not stay unconscious for long."

Loki immediately steps in the corridor, barely noticing someone (Rogers or Romanov, he really does not care) coming towards him.

"I would advise you do not talk to him now." Thor warns.

_Oh, how right you are, brother._

* * *

When Loki sees her, he feels ashamed.

No, not even ashamed.

By the Norns, he feels downright _pathetic_.

The right side of her face is almost unrecognizable; purple bruises on her swollen cheek and chin, a black eye, and a large bandage on her skull. Her hair has been hastily cut all around the wound, which makes it even more visible.

He allowed this to happen.

Morgan is soundly asleep; she cannot feel his hand holding hers, she cannot see the tears in his eyes, she cannot hear him saying how sorry he is.

The dim sound of a footstep that is not intended to be heard makes him briskly raise his head. Loki _swears_, if anyone _dares_ to intrude and speak just a _single word_ about her, he is going to...

"She will be fine, right? She is solid."

Alright, maybe with one exception.

Loki has never been really close to Nebula. He appreciates her when she decides to speak, but her taciturn nature does not make communication easy. However, it appears that Morgan has clearly found an opening in that barrier, and it is indeed genuine concern that the robotic voice expresses.

"She is much more than that." He whispers, only realizing a few seconds later that he has spoken these words aloud, and that he means every single one of them.

The cyborg slowly walks towards Morgan, carefully staring at him, and seems to be quite relieved not to see him object.

"Do you know for how long she will stay unconscious?" Nebula inquires.

"_Not long_, whatever that means." Loki angrily groans.

He frowns as he hears several voices becoming louder and louder.

"... No matter what he told you, we can't risk everyone's safety!"

Ah, the Holy Captain. Been a while.

Loki suddenly feels such a brutal wave of apprehension that it stops his breath for a moment. If they ever think about laying a finger on Morgan, yes, he will definitely annihilate them, without any second thought.

"I guess you have some scores to settle." Nebula asserts.

"You might want to watch as they even try to step into that room." He grins.

From where he stands, he can hear the voices of Thor, Rogers, Stark and Romanov. So, what will it be? A real, authentic trial? Or a direct sentence? Will they chain and gag him again, like the good old days?

He can easily deal with the Widow and the Hawk. Stark and Rogers too. But Banner... And Thor? Would Thor stand against him without any second thought? He might, after all...

"_Thor is Thor. He moves on. But Loki... stays Loki."_

He clenches his fist, trying to repress the nasty voice from his nightmare. Nothing about that was real. And yet...

Another thought strikes him like lightning.

_If the Scarlet Witch wakes up?_

Loki sighs bitterly, also remembering that he does not have one single blade to fight with, all his weapons having been destroyed when facing Thanos.

He does not stand a chance. He is alone.

"I will watch over her." Nebula suddenly offers.

He turns towards her, in a mix of incredulity and, actually not anything else, just pure incredulity.

"You two, you're good at talking." She says, eyeing both him and Morgan "I'm not. But I'm excellent at getting rid of those who attack me... and the few that are dear to me."

He takes a long look at her. At least, Morgan is not alone, and presently, it is the only thing that matters.

* * *

Four of the six Avengers are gathered in the common room of the compound. From where he is, Loki can see the Captain and the Widow staring accusingly at him, as well as Stark, leaning against the wall. The man is visibly tired. Good. If he needs to fight him, the recent loss of his left arm will make him a much weaker opponent.

As soon as Loki steps into the room, Thor walks towards him to stand by his side.

"So, tell me brother, have they heard the truth?" He sarcastically asks, perfectly aware that whatever truth that comes from Loki will never be considered one.

"For now, the truth looks very much like you were choking Wanda to death." Rogers spits.

"She is much more dangerous than you think." Loki coldly retorts.

The door opens again, letting both Banner and Barton in. The latter takes a long, stern look at Loki. Well, it seems that it is back to square one with every single person in this room.

"How's Wanda?" Romanov inquires.

"She's okay." The doctor assures "Resting."

"Sam is staying with her." Barton adds "So, just to be clear: what the hell happened?"

"The Scarlet Witch's mind is unstable." Loki affirms.

"Yeah, so you downright strangled her?!" Stark shouts.

"Do not play dumb with me, Stark." The god threatens "You know very well that I was not the only one she attacked."

"No, _you_, do not play dumb with me! You didn't just defend yourself; you _wanted_ to kill her! You're..."

The man does not finish his sentence, apparently too agitated to formulate coherent sentences. Stark is jittery, and his eyes are not focusing on anything, as if constantly checking for any additional way out of the room.

Loki clenches his fist, as he recalls something. Stark has seen him attempting to stifle Maximov. The same way he attacked him, years ago, in his own tower, right before throwing him out of a window.

That makes things even more complicated.

"We thought you weren't a threat to us anymore." Rogers declares "But you are proving us wrong."

"Loki fought alongside us." Thor immediately reminds "You have my word that he is not ill-intentioned towards anyone. And even if he was... I'm sure his strategy would have been much smarter than that."

Well, that is something to hear. Not only is Thor defending him, but also praising his cleverness? Loki has to write this down.

"If that's the case..." Romanov supposes "Why would Wanda suddenly attack you?"

Loki feels like his head is burning. Of course, this question was going to come up. But there is simply no way he can answer it. Certainly, the Avengers would _relish_ to know how powerless he was in front of just one of them.

He can still feel the claws of the red light in the back of his skull.

"Johannesburg." Banner suddenly mentions.

Loki is apparently the only person who does not get the reference. That word, whatever it means, although it strongly suggests a specific event or location, maybe both, seems to have the intended effect on the rest of the people around. Stark, the Widow, the Hawk, the Captain, and even Thor, all share uneasy glances.

"I don't need to remind you what happened, do I?" The doctor carries on, on a surprisingly fierce tone, which the god did not expect from him "Or do I need to tell you _who_ caused this?"

"Bruce..." Rogers hesitantly starts "You know it is not the..."

"_Not the same thing_, I know!" Banner stops him "Of course it's not the same thing for Loki to attack one person than for the Hulk to rampage an entire city!"

Oh. That was unexpected.

"I know Wanda is not our enemy anymore. And she will never be. But you can't deny that her powers can still affect us." He insists.

Loki looks at him with bewilderment. He would not have imagined the usually so reserved scientist to firmly take his side.

"I get your point, buddy." Stark replies "But here's the thing: You're saying Wanda would have influenced _him_ to attack _her_?! That doesn't make any sense!"

Loki clenches his fist. They will visibly not listen to him. His defence has to come from the other Avengers, and since none of them saw what happened, needless to say, he is, what is the expression already, oh right, toast.

Of course. The Scarlet Witch is their ally. Deep down, the God of Mischief still is their enemy.

It does not matter what Maximov or Loki _did_. In the end, it comes back to who they _are_.

"All I'm saying..." Banner continues "Is that accidents can always happen."

"Neither Wanda nor Loki is to blame." Thor asserts, clearly comforted by his friend's argument.

"Thor..." The Widow begins "You may have faith in your brother, but just look at what happened."

"Please do enlighten us, agent Romanov." Loki snarls, on an utterly sickened voice "Evidently, you have been there the whole time! How absent-minded I was not to have noticed your presence earlier!"

"In case you didn't realize, it's not the time to be a smartass." Stark dryly cuts.

It takes Loki an incredible amount of self-control not to smash the man's head against the coffee table. And to say that he might have appreciated him at some point! Stark is nothing more than a condescending hypocrite, and Loki is certain that he enjoys proving how _evil_ he is and has always been.

"What I saw..." Romanov elaborates, turning to him "Is that your brother was gone. Wanda was alone. You and Morgan were there. I can't deny the occasion was perfect."

"The occasion to... _what_, exactly?" Loki reacts "Oh right, what was I thinking? To kill the most dangerous person around! Then, to exterminate the Avengers and, finally, to dominate the Earth! Well, it went exactly according to plan, didn't it?!"

Thor discreetly sighs. _Of course_. Thor is ashamed, Thor is embarrassed, Thor apologizes for his brother's behaviour.

"It is not hard to see you have already made up your mind, whatever else I might say." Loki concludes, crossing his arms in a defiant attitude.

"Well, you don't make your defence easy." Rogers contends.

"I already told you what happened. Contrary to your friend the Witch, I cannot twist your brain to make you believe me."

"Don't you dare..." Rogers menacingly threatens.

"Wait!" Thor intervenes, stepping between him and Loki "Let's at least wait for Wanda to talk to us."

A disturbing silence follows. Loki knows what they will decide even before they reply.

"I'm sorry, pal." Stark declares "But it's just too much risk. I can't... Not after everything that happened. We're in a clear majority here, so..."

"Don't think we are, Tony."

If Loki was incredulous to see Banner show support for him, now, he is perfectly speechless to hear Barton's objection.

"What?!" Stark can only speak, as shocked as everyone else.

"You heard that right. I'm a hundred percent certain that Loki didn't mean to harm Wanda in the first place." The Hawk calmly explains.

"Clint, what exactly makes you think that?" Rogers queries.

The archer does not answer immediately, perhaps thinking about how to order his speech. Then, he stares at Loki, who does not flinch by any mean.

"That's obvious to me." Barton maintains "For what I know, maybe you _would_ attack Wanda, for whatever reason, but..."

"Okay, better be a valuable reason after this _but_." Stark angrily warns.

Barton gives him a somehow exasperated glance and Loki feels his admiration for him increase tenfold. Then, the archer's gaze comes back towards him.

"But... You would _never_ risk Morgan's life."

That sentence literally crushes his chest. Loki would never have imagined the Hawk to be so perceptive.

And that seems to have some impact on the other Avengers as well. Both Stark and Rogers suddenly appear much more uncertain, whereas Banner looks even more convinced.

"Never." Loki manages to speak.

And whoever dares to pretend otherwise will beg for mercy.

* * *

"Do you truly think that this will make any difference?" Loki bitterly asks.

He is once again alone with Thor, as the Avengers have just left the common room. It appears that some sort of status quo has been preserved, which Loki is not too unhappy about. He has had enough of ending up behind bars.

"I do, brother." The god of Thunder affirms, as optimist as usual "Despite what you may think, none of them wants you imprisoned."

"I surprisingly beg to differ."

"And I can't really reproach you that." Thor acknowledges "But time has passed, since New-York. They saw you fight by their side and save their lives. They understood that you are not the person you were six years ago. Still, they cannot forget that person either."

Loki sighs. Evidently. On Midgard, on Asgard, on Jotunheim, let's face it, all across the Nine Realms, he is branded. And a reputation such as his will not fade easily.

He wonders what it would be like, to start anew, with a clean slate, writing an entirely different story behind his name. Can there be other people than Morgan who would look at who he is now, instead of focusing on who he was?

Such a thing is not possible with the Avengers. Loki's eyes might have been clouded by the Mind Stone's influence; he still has gazed at every single one of them with a rage that cannot be fully omitted.

"Though they might be even more doubtful towards your Lady than towards you." Thor adds, not hiding his amusement when he notices the small flinch on Loki's face, indicating what the god of Mischief _refuses_ to call a slight blow to his ego.

Thor is not wrong though. Loki is quite famous among the Avengers and, well, among most Midgardians. Morgan was, and still remains, a mystery. She has not disclosed much about herself, and intends to keep it that way.

"Then, tell them that their wariness is irrelevant." He advises "Morgan is no more interested in asserting whatsoever form of domination on Earth than by..."

"... Oyster-farming." She admits.

What exactly does he feel, at this precise moment? Loki does not know for sure what prevails between relief, guilt, euphoria and _why does her first word have to be THAT?_

Still, when he turns around, he feels like he has been physically hit in the face. Because hers is a mess.

It was one thing to see her unconscious. It is another to look at her walking towards him (_swaying_ is much more adequate, with Nebula regularly taking careful looks at her, just in case she might stumble with no prior warning, and Loki will have to think about how he can express his gratitude to the cyborg), and smiling, at least attempting what can be understood as a smile. Hard to be sure, with so many red and black marks on her face, and her difficulty to keep her right eye open.

Evidently, she got up the second she woke up. It was that, or tying her to the bed.

Go ahead, try to find someone else like her, in all the Nine Realms and beyond. Good luck.

And, by Hell, she does not stop:

"You can say it, you know. I took it right in the face, didn't I?" She laughs at both him and Thor, the two of them being too astonished to say anything intelligible "At least, I can take the opportunity to experiment a new hairstyle. Mohican-Morgan, how does that sound?"

Let's admit it, her hairstyle is not really one anymore. On the left side of her face, her dark curls still stop right above the neck, but on the opposite side, they have been, if not shaved, clumsily cut, in order to better position the voluminous compress which hides her wound.

Funny, how Loki feels both so reassured and yet so frightened. Because it is Morgan who is standing in front of him, always bursting with energy, even when half-massacred, and because that, all of that, should never have happened.

He has to say something.

But first things first.

Though Nebula has quickly understood and is already leaving the room, dragging Thor along despite the latter's protests.

"They are too polite to tell us to get out." She tranquilly explains, and it is becoming increasingly arduous for the god of Mischief to refrain from applauding her.

The door shuts and they are alone. Approximatively one quarter of a second later, they are in each other's arms.

Loki does not even know how to enlace her. He does not want to hurt her further, and yet he desperately wants her warmth against him.

"Say something." Morgan mutters "Please."

Alright.

"I love you."

He says it again, and again, and again. Just in case.


	4. Time to show them

**Okay, so the last chapter didn't seem to be very popular. Little thought to all fellow/wannabe writers: p****ublishing is an amazing exercise, because no matter how much effort you put into your work, 99% of the time, people will shrug it off. At first, I thought I was bad, and that since people were not even taking the time to tell me what they were thinking, my stories must_ suck_. So, since most of the time, people don't care about what you're doing, you might as well do what you want.**

**Also, some of you will find a reference to a demon and an angel (and I'm not looking at _anyone_ in particular).**

**Enjoy! (or not!)**

* * *

"Is it painful?" Loki questions, brushing Morgan's cheek as delicately as possible.

She timidly nods, trying to escape his gaze. The contrast is startling, between extravagant-Morgan, who never seems to be afraid of what anyone might think about her, and this Morgan here, who is everything but self-confident right now. Two different persons: one everyone sees and another only Loki sees.

He remains as careful as possible: his hand skims her jawline, then her right cheekbone, and finally her eye, shining with a dim green light. Little by little, the bruises start to become less visible, then fade completely, returning her skin to its usual colour.

Morgan lets a small exclamation out, under the effect of surprise, or maybe relief, certainly both. She hesitantly touches her face again, on which is growing an amazed expression. As for the wound on her skull, better to wait for it to cicatrise a little before withdrawing the bandage. Loki smiles as he remembers her fierce insistence not to let him take care of the wounds inflicted to her during the battle for the Infinity Stones, at least not before his own injuries were completely healed.

"Thank you." Morgan beams, before clasping his neck, then standing on tip-toe.

Which is not enough for her face to reach his.

"Go on. You're almost there." Loki taunts.

"That's right, make a fool of me." She grins, not vexed the slightest "What's the weather like, up there?"

The god of Mischief chuckles and grabs her legs to raise her from the ground, so that her lips can meet his, and there is no need to ask twice.

"I love you." She whispers against his ear "Very much. A lot. Immensely. More than... I don't know. You get the idea."

She is nervous, even more. Afraid.

Loki puts her down.

"I may sound incredibly paranoid right now..." Morgan winces "But I can't help thinking that we cannot speak freely here."

Evidently, she is referring to Stark's AI, which is probably able to monitor them anywhere they are in the compound. Especially after what just happened.

"Put your finger on my mouth." Loki requests "And stay still."

"That's what she said."

"You really are beyond redemption." He laughs.

"Dare telling me you disapprove."

She complies nonetheless, and Loki mirrors her gesture, closing his eyes for a moment to better focus. The spell is quite basic, and does not take him more than a handful of seconds.

"Now, only you can hear what I say, and vice-versa." He explains.

"Convenient. That works as well."

Her surprised tone unsettles him.

"Were you thinking about something else?" He inquires.

"Well, yes. No one else than us can access Whatever-its-name."

The name itself, which is not even one, is enough to send disagreeable shivers down Loki's back.

Whereas Morgan can only psychically reach this dimension-between-dimensions made of infinite whiteness, the powers she has transferred Loki enabled him to enter it entirely, body and soul.

But...

But what if he stays trapped there? What if he finds himself unable to get out, once again?

"_The reality is, you never escaped this place."_

What if this is _still_ an illusion?

Is anything around him even real? Is Morgan real? Is he real? Has he ever gotten out?

"Loki... Loki!" Her voice resonates in his ears "Look at me!"

Her hands grab his face, firmly this time, and force him to stare at her. Only then does he realize that his breath has become loud and accelerated.

"Okay. We won't go there. I don't want to do it, anyway." She assures.

Yet, this terrible anxiety is gnawing his guts. How can he be sure that he is real? How can he truly know that he is not trapped in a nightmare anymore?

It is so overwhelming; he feels like actual claws are seizing his throat. Because he wants to cry, he realizes. Even more, he wants to scream until his voice breaks, to push away all these poisonous sensations eating him from the inside. He wants to smash everything around just to make sure that it is tangible, that it is _real_.

But he cannot. He cannot break down here and now, after having already failed so spectacularly to protect Morgan.

_Can't you stop being so unsteady, so vulnerable_, an accusing voice groans in the back of his head,_ can't you for once control your fears? _

"Loki..." She whispers again, on a tone that sparks pure anger in his chest.

Is that _pity_? Is she pitying him?

"I am fine." He cuts, taking her hands away from his face, a little more briskly than he would have wished to.

Morgan's reaction is not long in coming. She crosses her arms and raises her left eyebrow, looking everything but convinced.

"Cut the shit. You're not fine." She furiously hisses.

"Alright, I am not fine! Is that what you want to hear?!" Loki snaps "Are you satisfied, now?!"

"Satis- what?!" Morgan exclaims "Do you think I _enjoy_ seeing you afraid?!"

"I am not..."

Obviously, he cannot finish his sentence. First, because it is an outright lie: he is absolutely terrified. Second, because Morgan is now going ballistic.

"You're afraid! And I'm afraid!" She shouts, in a mix of both rage and panic "I'm _really_ afraid! Maximov, she... She hurt me! And she hurt you! I'm afraid of what happened, and what could have happened, and what can still happen!"

Loki bites his tongue. Everything around him seems so unsettling. He does not know what to cling to.

"I promise you..." Morgan declares "I may be worried for you, but I will _never_ pity you. Never. So, just stop pretending that you're fine when you're not!"

"Easy for you to say." Loki huffs.

"Why?!" She immediately reacts, opening her arms to illustrate her confusion "Because you're a god and a man? Because I'm a human and a woman? So, I'm supposed to be afraid, and you're supposed to protect me, and all the rest of it?"

"If only it was that simple!" He sarcastically sneers.

"Ugh..." Morgan sighs, rolling her eyes out of exasperation "In any case, it is certainly not your protection that I want from you."

"So, what exactly do you want from me?!" Loki suddenly exclaims, infuriated "What could I possibly give you?!"

"I want _you_, Loki!" She shouts, even louder "But like, the entire you. Not only the super-strong-quasi-immortal-master-sorcerer part! Sure, that's absolutely awesome and I'm amazed by all the things you can do, but... I also want everything else. The constantly inquisitive and nearly suicidal what-if-I-push-this-big-red-button part, the haughty smartass which whom I can bitch about the entire cosmos, the funny-as-hell prankster, the fucking drama-queen, the one who's afraid and hurt, all of that!"

For a handful of seconds, which seems like an eternity, Loki remains completely unable to say one single word.

"Did you just call me a drama-queen?" He then manages to articulate.

"And I can do it again!" She almost proudly affirms "In short, what I want from you is not your protection... but your support."

"Why..." Loki stammers "Why would I stay with someone who sees a head injury as the perfect occasion to pick a new hairstyle, and who could practically write an entire book entitled _How to Roast the Avengers in Ten Lessons_? Why, by all the Norns, do I tolerate this arrogant, reckless and irreverent specimen of a Midgardian? Why am I..."

The sensation is indefinable. He feels like he will never be able to say these words, and yet he desperately needs to do so.

"Why am I so afraid to lose you?" Loki hears himself whisper.

He immediately braces himself for the usual wave of frustration and sarcasm at his own powerlessness, but...

But it never comes.

Obviously, _you moron_, because this is Morgan in front of him. This is Morgan who is awkwardly smiling, this is Morgan who remains by his side in times of war and peace all the same, and this is Hell-forsaken _Morgan_ who wants _him_!

Why would he ever feel powerless?

"So..." She begins, and the muffled sound of her voice makes Loki realize that they are into each other's arms again "Why?"

He smiles, as the answer very naturally comes to him, this time.

"Because everything would be so boring and bitter without you."

The following kiss is probably the most intimate they have ever shared, tasting like tears of joy and nervous laughter.

"Loki, I just thought about something."

"Something good or something bad?"

"Something terrible. We might have grown up a lot."

"Ouch. Let's go wreck something. Preferably one of the Avengers' something." He offers.

And then, Morgan has one of _these_ smiles. These he absolutely adores, as they generally arrive right before she discloses a very interesting idea.

"What do you have in mind?" He questions, too curious to stay quiet.

Morgan sits on the edge of one of the sofas. She often does that, instead of settling on the cushions. Loki does not know the exact reason, if exact reason there is.

"What I have in mind is that both us have been far too tolerant with the Avengers." She explains "I think it's time to show them what we are capable of."

Loki is, at first, quite surprised. Morgan does not hold grudges. No, it is not true. Morgan is _physically unable_ to hold any grudge. For what the god of Mischief saw, she might be afraid of the Scarlet Witch, but she does not appear to resent her at all.

And yet, Morgan Dumas always remembers. Always makes plans. Always thinks ten steps ahead of everyone. Except Loki. Evidently. Undeniably.

Maybe.

In short, to hurt others is not something Morgan appreciates. To_ disturb_, however...

"And how do you suggest we do that?" He teases.

Morgan stands up, rather, she swings her legs in the air and they miraculously land next to each other on the floor.

"First step." She decrees "Alcohol. A tremendous amount of alcohol."

* * *

As soon as they step inside the compound vast dining room, Valkyrie's sarcastic salutations are not long in coming.

"So, how did you mess up, this time?" She inquires, explicitly staring at Loki, before her mouth gapes open, as she has just noticed the person next to him.

Morgan does not say anything, but does not hide her amusement either. She strides towards the table at which Valkyrie is seated, and casually settles in front of her, as if both of them were longstanding drinking companions. As she has her back turned on Loki, he cannot see the expression on her face, however, he does not miss one second of Valkyrie's utter perplexity; the warrior's arm, still holding an umpteenth bottle of Asgardian ale, is completely immobile, and on her face is growing a grotesque wince which Loki does his best to deeply engrave in his memory.

"As you can see..." Morgan slowly starts, leaning a little over the table to bring her face closer to Valkyrie's "Kissing walls goodnight is generally a bad idea."

The elite Asgardian combatant stays speechless for a moment, then cannot refrain a small laughter, which she tries to dissimulate under a poorly convincing sigh.

"You seem rather fighting fit to me." Valkyrie observes, before turning towards Loki again "Seriously though, we leave for Wakanda for what, a couple of hours, we come back, and it's already total mayhem."

"Yeah, if anyone can give us an update of what's been going on, we wouldn't say no!" Rocket requests, upon entering the room.

Loki has to admit, he is quite glad to see the Guardians of Galaxy, all present, especially the racoon. The latter does not wait for an answer to jump swiftly on the wooden table, right in front of Morgan, who does not flinch by any mean.

"Okay, clearly, you've seen better days." He comments, explicitly staring at her.

"Well, you're not a stunner either." She tranquilly smiles, without an ounce of irritation.

"Ha!" Rocket laughs out loud "Can I try my luck?"

"Please." Morgan nods.

"You were a smartass with the Black Widow chick."

"I'm a smartass with everyone."

"That's just the thing." Rocket approves.

Loki takes a seat. This can last hours, and he would not miss a second of it, for all the money in the world. The rest of the Guardians seems to think the same.

"How does she do it?" Peter Quill tries to discreetly whisper at Loki's ear.

But the racoon has a sharp ear.

"How does she do _what_?" He loudly echoes, making every single head naturally turn towards the man next to Loki.

"How do _you_ manage to put up with _him_?" Quill repeats, respectively pointing out Morgan then Rocket.

"How do you _not_ manage to put up with him?" Morgan innocently rectifies.

"You see Quill, she gets it." Rocket smirks.

"Just kiss each other, already." Valkyrie comments.

"Just open a few more bottles, rather." Morgan suggests.

From where he is, Loki can see the subtle tints of gold in her gaze, focused on the Asgardian warrior, and can reasonably expect what follows to be even stranger. He is not disappointed.

"Alright." Valkyrie accepts "If you guys are able to handle it..."

Loki raises a confused eyebrow when she grabs a bag at her feet and takes out one, two, three, _four_ bottles of what he identifies as some liquor he saw on planet Sakaar, what seems like a lifetime ago.

That briskly reminds Loki of his time spent in complete freedom, without his brother being even aware of his existence. From time to time, he would leave Odin's disguise and take his good time on some other realms, blissfully following his desires and impulses. This way of life sometimes comes back to his mind, and he wonders if he still longs for it. Living on his own, without any attachment, surely has its appeal. No one to depend on, no one to obey, and certainly not anyone to be hurt by. It can be, on the other hand, lonely. Very lonely. Even though he is fully aware that what lies in front of him is certainly not freedom as he has experienced it, now that he has much greater pain at stake, would he be ready to take the risk? Could he, were the occasion presented to him, leave Thor without any second thought? Could he do the same to Morgan, without even looking back?

He loves her, no doubt. He loves her in a way he cannot fully define, partly because she is so much like him, partly because she is so different from him. And yet, he cannot be sure of who he will turn out to be, nor of what he will do on a whim.

But for now, he does not want to think about that.

More important, how exactly does Valkyrie does it? That is, always carrying such a large and diverse amount of drinks? Does she actually possess the basics of Asgardian magic, allowing her to create a small pocket dimension?

That remains to be seen.

"Hey, you've got your weird eyes again." Valkyrie notices "Are you doing the hypnosis thing, now?"

"Nope." Morgan affirms, with rock-solid confidence, and eyes brighter than ever.

"Good, 'cause otherwise I would kick your teeth in."

"That's scary. Which is why I would _never_ try to deceive you." Morgan solemnly declares "I swear it on Rocket's head."

"You're a desperate cause." The racoon snickers, before seizing one the bottles and giving it a try "Oh, that's some good stuff!"

"I am Groot?" The talking tree intervenes, which reminds Loki of his presence.

"You're a bit young for that." Drax warns.

Loki does not know where Nebula is, though. Shame. For some reason, he desperately wants to see a sincere smile on her face.

"Wow, what the hell is that?!" Quill exclaims, after having helped himself a drink as well, which is turning his face red at fascinating speed.

"Told you." Valkyrie shrugs.

It does not take long for the volume of the conversations to increase significantly. Rocket and Valkyrie now seem to have known each other for centuries.

"That is a good start." Loki admits, taking a seat next to Morgan "Though as much as I would love to see the rest of this compound inhabitants in the same state, I do not think it will be that easy."

"You are right." She smiles "Which is why I need your help. And some music."

"Some music?" The god of Mischief questions, unsure of where she is going.

"Some _good_ music."

Fair enough.


	5. We are not here to kill you

**Hi everyone!**

**Sorry for this delay, I had less time to write, also a little less motivation, but I am definitely not running out of ideas, which makes me think that this story will definitely have more than five chapters, and that yes, I did it again in the end, because you know, angst and all that stuff. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Tell me the name again." Loki requests.

"Don't stop me now." Morgan replies, still staring at the screen.

"I was not planning to."

"No, that's the name. _Don't stop me now_, that's the song." She clarifies "Also known as the ultimate cure to depression. And I'm not even joking here, there really is a neuroscientist who devised an equation to determine which songs were the most likely to make people feel good, and this one came on top."

"Midgardian researchers have way too much time to spare."

Morgan smirks but remains focused on the phone she is currently holding. Curtesy of Stark. She rarely uses it though, except, as it seems, to look for a very specific melody.

"Got it!" She finally beams, touching the screen one last time "The problem is, I wonder if it will be loud enough..."

"By the way, may I please know how much longer you will keep pretending not to be seen?" Loki laconically asks the person on his right.

It has approximatively been five long minutes since Drax has started to stare at them with a stillness that is almost frightening. Loki came close to grabbing a stick and poking his eye, just to make sure he was alive.

"People generally jump out of surprise when they turn around." Drax, visibly disconcerted, admits.

"Sorry to disappoint." The god of Mischief shrugs.

"Do you need a speaker for your music?" Drax questions.

"That would be very convenient." Morgan acknowledges.

Then, a long and uncomfortable silence settles.

"What?" Drax finally reacts.

"Well, you asked if I needed a speaker." Morgan reminds him.

"Yes."

"So, do you have one?"

"What makes you think that I have one?"

Morgan turns towards Loki, eyes wide open with astonishment, and perhaps a slight tint of distress.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He queries.

"If it fails, can I ask you to erase my most recent memories?" She demands, and Loki cannot really tell if she is being sarcastic or not.

"Hey, Quill!" Drax calls "Do you have a speaker?!"

Peter Quill, along with the rest of the Guardians, is standing on the other side of the room, busy arguing with Rocket about who should hold the title of best spaceship pilot.

"Wait, lemme see..." Quill slowly replies, carefully putting down what is surely not his first glass of ale, then checking his pockets "Oh no, that's weird, I'm not carrying with me _the giant speakers that are fixed to the walls of our ship_, Drax!"

"You're clearly not strong enough for that." Drax, the visible proof that idiots can live a long, full life, feels compelled to emphasize.

"Pains me to think that they will all be dead within a week." Morgan sighs.

"What makes you say so?" Loki interrogates.

"Nebula. She is going to kill them all."

"That is very likely." He agrees.

The absence of answer makes him realize that Morgan has started to play the song she was talking about. It is... Well... Not exactly what he thought it would be, to put it mildly. However, Morgan's posture gives it the benefit of the doubt. She is standing very still, with her back straight and the tips of her fingers touching her temples. And, the most surprising element of all, her eyes closed.

"Here we go." Loki hears her whisper, before the song rhythm changes radically.

_Punchy_, as Morgan likes to say, is quite an adequate word to describe it. Something about shooting stars and explosions and light speed. Drugs, of any kind, were evidently involved in the process of making this song. However, Morgan's attitude is something entirely new from what Loki has witnessed until then. Whenever she was confronted with the need to influence the behaviour or emotions of a living being, from a venomous snake to the Earth Mightiest Heroes, she has always put the accent on visual contact, in order to give much more efficient and rapid results. At the present moment, a genuine smile is clearly visible on Morgan's face, but her eyes, especially the familiar golden colour that indicates the use of her powers, are purely and solely shut.

"I like this music!" Mantis suddenly shouts.

"Pretty cool!" Quill approves.

"Hey, what is she doing?" Valkyrie frowns, noticing Morgan's unusual position.

"Making all of you completely high!" Morgan readily informs them.

"Awesome!" Mantis giggles, clapping her hands like a child.

"I'm sure I should be pissed off!" Valkyrie laughs, before clinking glasses with Quill again.

Morgan opens her eyes and withdraws her hands from her temples. Everyone in the room appears, and certainly is, even more cheerful than before.

"To be honest, I don't think they were in dire need of your intervention to finish all the alcohol into this room." Loki informs her.

"Of course not." She winks "That was just a warm-up."

"To get every single person in this building..." Loki starts to guess.

"... Utterly wrecked." Morgan gladly confirms.

Loki does not need to hear more to offer his arm.

"Shall we?" He suggests.

* * *

Crafting an invisibility spell for someone other than himself is a first, hence the necessity for Morgan to keep holding his arm. Not that she is complaining.

"What a perfect date night." She teases.

"Classic." Loki retorts.

And yet, it is dangerously true that they look like two lovers on a picturesque stroll. If one omits the fact that they can neither be seen nor heard by anyone else than themselves.

"So, are you going to tell me how?" Loki finally inquires.

"How what?"

"Please." He sighs, rolling his eyes "You know very well what I am talking about. How did you change the way you exert your powers? As I recall, visual contact was a crucial part of the process. And now, not only do you seem to do well without it, but you also managed to influence an entire group of people, instead of one person after the other."

"Mmh." Morgan evasively mutters "Will you believe me when I say that I have absolutely no clue at all?"

"No."

"Just my luck. Why would I lie to you?"

This time, Loki's gaze is stern, and Morgan immediately stops walking.

"Should I really answer this question?" The god of Mischief asks, as the two of them are now standing in the desert hallway of the Avengers' compound.

"I wouldn't like that."

"My guess is that the Soul Stone did something to you, which you do not exactly know yet, and you are reluctant to tell me." He continues.

"I said I didn't want to hear your answer." She nervously grumbles.

Loki tightens his grip around her arm a little, as she has mechanically started to let go of it.

"The promise works both ways." He reminds.

"Which promise?"

"You swore you will never pity me. Neither will I." Loki pledges.

"Even if I am not even me anymore?" She asks, on a trembling voice.

She suddenly looks, and certainly is, terrified. Loki can feel her arms shaking a little. He hates to see her that way, yet it is too late to act as if nothing has happened.

"You're aware that my connection with the Soul Stone was... Well, it was more than a connection." Morgan hesitantly starts "You, and Nebula, and Strange, and Quill, and Maximov, all wielded the Infinity Stones to defeat Thanos, but with the Soul Stone, it was different. I made a sort of... bargain."

Loki winces. Bargains rarely are the equivalent of good news; he is well placed to know this.

"Not as if I had the choice, though." Morgan continues "In order for me to free myself and the Avengers from the Soul World, and in order for the Soul Stone to free itself and the five others from the Gauntlet, both of us had to be more than what we already were."

"You speak of it as if it was a person." Loki observes.

"Kind of... For a time, I was the Stone and the Stone was me. I was created to be its bearer, remember? But at this moment, none of us was in position to have the upper hand over the other."

"Yet, you told me you managed to counter its power."

"That's also what I thought!" Morgan huffs, evidently frustrated "But now, I have these recurrent migraines, and I start to... I start to feel more than I already feel. My abilities are increasing, but I don't know if they are really _mine_, or if there's still _something else_ inside my head!"

She is on the verge of panicking, and Loki has absolutely no idea of what to do.

"What if the Stone never left?! What if it is slowly killing me?!" She stammers, now trembling violently "Or what if I'm just... going crazy?"

"Morgan." Loki calmly speaks, which already seems to appease her a little "First of all, you are not crazy. At least, no more than usual."

Feeble smile on her lips. Good.

"Second, there is one thing that makes me suppose the Soul Stone is not trying to take over your mind, or whatever you may think it is doing." He smirks.

"And what is it?!" She hurriedly questions, half-reassured, half-anxious.

"If I were someone, or something, attempting to control you, why would I even let you believe that I am doing so?" Loki points out "Why would I allow you to be wary of me, so that you could warn everybody of my presence?"

An expression of pure relief instantly appears on Morgan's face, and Loki mentally congratulates himself.

"This is... This makes perfect sense!" She exclaims "Why didn't I think about this sooner?!"

He does not answer anything. He knows very well why.

Because mind control blocks your thoughts. Because it makes you afraid, enraged and irrational. Because it turns you into someone you are not, and yet who is still very much you.

Loki stares at Morgan. Now, he knows better than trying to hide his apprehension, the same way she cannot hope to fool him about how anxious she feels.

This does not prevent him from having an idea, though.

"I have something to ask you." He begins.

"Ouch. Judging by your tone, it will very probably displease me." Morgan winces.

And she can say that again.

"Bring me to the Scarlet Witch." He solemnly requests.

Morgan rapidly turns her gaze away from him, which makes Loki think, for an instant, that someone is coming. He frantically checks, left, no one, right, no one, all clear, just the two of them in the corridor, still invisible to any ear and eye.

"Whether I help you or not, you will find her anyway, won't you?" She breathes out heavily.

Loki does not even take the trouble to answer. Of course, he will. It will take him more time, that is all, but he will. And of course, Morgan will not try to stop him.

"You know..." She speaks, raising her eyes towards him again, and the god of Mischief can see a fierce, one would even say wild, determination, shining in her golden irises "I would have killed her. Maximov. Had she not knocked me down, I would not have stopped."

Loki bites his lip. What state was he in, when she first saw him on the balcony? What was the Witch exactly doing to him? And what had Morgan done to her?

"I am not angry at her for hurting me." She carries on "She defended herself, that's all. Neither am I angry at her for hurting you either. Every single person in this building is everything but mentally stable, at the moment."

"Do you think me defenceless?" Loki grins "If it reassures you, I have no intention of harming Maximov, but I will not go unprepared either."

"I have no doubt you will." She firmly answers "But if she does it again... If she attacks you, or me, I will do my best to ensure that she cannot harm us any longer."

"And so will I." He affirms.

Loki has heard of what the Witch did, right before Thanos snapped his fingers. In order to prevent the Titan from acquiring the Mind Stone, she had to shatter it, killing the being she loved the most in the process. A decision which ultimately did not solve anything, and surely is the cause of her present torment.

The god of Mischief has no idea of how she came to do it.

To him, as long as Morgan stands, the entire world may very well burn to ashes.

* * *

"We are not here to kill you." Loki calmly repeats, for the third time.

"And even if we were, I'm pretty sure the outcome would not be very fortunate. For the two of us, I mean." Morgan adds, with her hands still in the air.

Despite the edge of the knife pressing against his throat, Loki finds it hard not to laugh. Not because he can very well switch the weapon with any kind of harmless items of roughly the same size (although it does help a little). Rather, because he is quite fascinated by Morgan's borderline suicidal behaviour. A sort of _if-we-have-to-do-this-let's-at-least-do-it-right_ mindset, which often involves a tremendous amount of confidence, with a zest of insanity.

"Then, why are you here?" Wanda Maximov questions, not dropping her guard the slightest.

Funny how the Witch, who clearly appears to be in position of power, turns out to be the most uncertain of the three in the room. Her hands, extended on both sides of her body, are trembling a little. Loki cannot deny that the flickering red lights around them are far from making him at ease, however, the situation is completely different from what happened on the balcony of the compound, a few hours ago.

For as long as he can remember, Loki has always laughed at the very concept of trust. To him, trust equals dependence, and is always followed by disappointment. It still does, to a certain extent. But there is _trust_ and _trust in Morgan_, which are two completely different things.

_I am coming with you_, she said, earlier on, and obviously, he refused. Once. Twice. Thrice. She deepened her argument, tranquilly reminding him of her uru-solid stubbornness; _You have as much the right to ask her why she played Jenga with your mind than I have to face her with the fact that she turned my head into a Picasso_. There were some flaws in this logic, he pointed out, even after the ten-minutes explanation of what her comparisons actually meant, but Morgan was in no mood to make any compromise.

And now that the two of them are faced with two impressive, though not sharpened enough, to Loki's mind, cooking knives, he is quite relieved to have given in. No matter the threat he is faced with, Morgan stands by his side.

As for the Scarlet Witch herself, she is far from impressive. Never has she looked more like a terror-stricken child. Her voice, despite her visible efforts to muster some assurance, is erratic. Hoarse, most of all. This especially has to do with the impressive marks ensnaring her throat. Loki can almost distinguish the shadows of his fingers, which left some dark bruises on the woman's skin.

"This is making it quite tedious to speak, you know." Morgan placidly tells, eyeing the knife again, which is still levitating a millimetre away from her neck.

The bedroom in which the three of them are presently staring stonily at each other is, as Loki often likes to put it, quite unspectacular. The only item that stands out, leaning against the wall, is probably the only one which actually belongs to the Witch. A guitar. Odd. He can hardly imagine the Avengers doing anything else than... Well, avenging.

Ironically, this is probably the exact same way Maximov is looking at them. The Avengers can hardly imagine Morgan and Loki doing anything else than (delete as appropriate) thwart the Avengers' plans, thwart anyone's plan, or having a plan of their own that does not take into account the fact that there may be alternative plans.

Nothing he cannot deal with, right?

"I don't want to hurt you..." The Witch begins.

"Not very convincing." Loki cannot help commenting.

"... But you should leave." Maximov warns.

"Oh, that is definitely what we _should_ do." Morgan provokes "But if we were reasonable beings, we wouldn't even have set foot in this room, would we?"

The young woman sighs heavily, then starts to lower her arms. The knives follow her move and slowly hover towards the floor. Yet, she keeps an eye on Morgan. A watchful eye.

"I never meant to hurt any of you." She quietly whispers, to avoid making a too intense use of her voice.

"Neither did we." Morgan assures "Everything went downhill, that's a fact. But we are not really interested in bringing this up."

The Witch looks, understandably, confused.

"But... What are you..." She stammers.

"Do not worry." Loki grins "If revenge was what we were looking for, no doubt that we would have picked a much cleverer way of getting it."

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a little twitch on Morgan's lips. Flattery works both ways too. So, better get to the heart of the matter.

"What exactly is the Mind Stone?" The god of Mischief asks.

This time, Maximov cannot help but turning her head towards him, with a look of utter bewilderment.

"What do you mean? You two have seen what it did, why do you ask-"

"We have indeed seen what it _did_." Morgan explains "We actually got a pretty good picture. But what we really want to know is what the Mind Stone is made of. Is it a part of you? Are you a part of it? How does it... _speak_ to you?"

Loki smiles as he sees wariness gradually leaving the Witch's face, to be replaced by interest. Good start.

He still does not know whether or not she has attacked him on purpose, yet he tends to presume that it was the case. Evidently, he intends to answer that question, but asking Maximov directly is by far the least successful strategy. They need to earn her trust, to make her see that they will listen to her. And, let's face it, the Scarlet Witch is much better to have as an ally than as an enemy.

"Whether we like it or not, the Infinity Stones have left their marks on us." Morgan theatrically presents "But I heard your connection to the Mind Stone started long before all of that."

"It did..." Maximov carefully acknowledges, before turning to Loki once again "After they took your... After they took the Sceptre, they started to... Experiment. My twin brother and I were the only ones who survived it."

"Twin brother?" Morgan repeats.

"_They_?" Loki queries.

"An organization called Hydra." The Witch explains, now avoiding both of their gazes, with a posture that clearly indicates guilt "We were... So angry. At the Avengers, mostly. And they..."

"_Helped_ you." Loki ends, sarcastically emphasizing the first word.

"Yes." Maximov breathes out "I did not listen to anyone. I thought I was powerful, but I was just afraid. And I..."

She is now staring at him, and Loki instinctively tightens his fist, ready to counter any attack that may...

"I am sorry."

The sentence is so unexpected that for a handful of seconds, he is absolutely sure to have dreamed it.

"What happened was entirely my fault." The Witch rephrases "And I am sorry."

She is telling nothing but the truth, Loki is more than sure about it. Strangely enough, for someone who wields the Mind Stone's powers, Wanda Maximov can be read like an open book. An echo of their previous discussion resonates in his head.

"_All I am good at is destroying."_

Loki can almost feel what she felt, earlier, and what she feels right now. Hatred and shame, one feeding the other. He is all too familiar with this vicious circle.

"Since we are all giving a go at fixing things, let me try my luck." He suggests, smirking at both the Witch's and Morgan's perplexity.

Then, he extends his hand towards Maximov. More precisely, towards her neck.

Still at a fair distance from him, she considers his silent offer. Evidently, her apprehension is not entirely gone, and Loki would lie if he said it is also the case for him. Yet, she progressively comes closer to him, with Morgan simultaneously taking a few steps back, her back turned to the door, in order not to corner her.

"Will it be painful?" The Witch nervously inquires, as Loki's hand is already glowing with dim green light, ready to make the bruises covering her skin fade away.

"I will do my best." He teases, which is followed by a small, yet real smile on the woman's face.

"What the _hell_?!" Morgan suddenly exclaims, which makes them both turn their head towards the entrance of the room.

The picture is unexpected; that is the least Loki can say. In front of them is hovering a V-shaped automated device, not very large, not very long either, roughly the length of his arm, a sort of autonomous metal wing. What has Morgan once evoked, which seems to fit this description? Oh right, a drone. What kind of silly name is that?

The answer is not important. Everything that follows is not important. Neither is everything that comes before.

Because it fires a bullet right at Morgan's chest.


	6. You're really here

**Thank you very much, WickedlyMinx and CurtiMcQueen8, for your reviews! I wish everyone who reads me a great time at this end of the year (and what's better to celebrate it than just writing about different kinds of emotional breakdown, am I right?)**

**Also, some of you will see a blunt allusion to a specific comic book in this chapter.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

There is no scream.

Neither Loki nor Maximov emit the slightest sound. For a second, which seems like an eternity in itself, there is no movement either.

Then, Morgan stumbles. In a sense, Loki thinks, the whole scene is flawlessly sequenced: step one, the armed drone shoots, step two, she falls.

Though Loki is not really thinking. He is not exactly able to. Only his basic instincts, hard-wired on the fight for survival, are getting the upper hand over his cognitive abilities.

If she dies, he dies. Worse, if she dies, he cannot even tell what he will be.

Morgan has fallen right where she was standing. She has not been propelled by any impact, neither has she taken a few steps before collapsing. When Loki rushes towards her, he does not even dare to touch her.

Suddenly, her rough inhalation breaks the paralysis that has taken hold of his body.

She is gasping for air, and it is visibly painful. She cannot do anything else than trying to catch her breath, and Loki does his best to position her in a way which better allows her to do so.

Tears of anguish are rolling down Morgan's cheeks, as each inspiration she takes seems to spark a surge of suffering in her body. As for Loki, he cannot cry. Neither can he talk. His eyes mechanically go down to her chest, where her right hand is firmly pressed. Rivulets of blood are trickling between her fingers. However, there is something else, which Morgan appears to be _holding_.

With one hand still maintaining her back, Loki carefully estimates the gravity of the wound and also feels something under his palm.

The bullet, he immediately realizes.

It is abnormally large. Also, not as solid as he would have expected.

Whatever the projectile is, it is not of the same size and resistance than those used by Midgardians in a fight, and did not cause a wound as deep as the latter usually do.

But this fact does not _mean_ anything. The only element Loki can take into account is Morgan mechanically begging for air in his arms. Her eyes are focused on him.

He _hates_ that.

Loki hates to see Morgan hurt and afraid. It is much more than hate. Something like ultimate repulsion is a little more accurate.

He has to make this stop, whatever the consequences are.

"Stop that!" A voice which he recalls belongs to the Scarlet Witch shouts.

She is standing right in front of the automated device, shielding Loki and Morgan, arms open.

"They were not attacking me!" She continues "They were _helping_ me!"

"Get away from them, Wanda." Another voice resonates.

Loki has to completely turn his gaze away from Morgan, to see who has just spoken. Then, he is unsure whether or not the feral grow he hears only exists in his mind of if it comes from his own throat.

Sam Wilson is standing in the doorframe, with what seems like his battle suit on. His right hand is holding a gun, whereas his left hand is touching his right wrist, on which is fixed a small control panel. Loki can very clearly see that the subtle movements of his fingers are influencing the trajectory of the armed drone.

One thing is certain: this man only has a handful of seconds left to live.

Loki carefully lays Morgan down, so that she can focus on breathing, right behind him. Then, slowly, he stands up.

The god of Mischief is not as tall, and certainly not as imposing, as his brother the god of Thunder. However, no one has ever affirmed that he is not intimidating. And it is not this insignificant Midgardian who will dare to disagree.

"_You_, stay where you are!" Wilson barks, and the uncertainty in his voice is an absolute delight.

"Loki..." Maximov starts, on a worried tone.

The Witch advances her hand towards him and the memories hit him like lightning.

Red light. Nightmares, confusion, fear. _Danger_.

Thankfully, Loki's arm is more rapid. Maximov just has the time to cast an energy shield around her, before the impact of his punch sends her against a wall.

Next, the god's eyes revert back to Wilson. At the sight of Loki's attack, he fires three bullets -which seem to be real ones this time- at his head and chest. The impacts on his cheek, chin and shoulder are evidently not strong enough to wound him, but just enough to enrage him further.

A swift movement of Loki's hand is all it takes for one of the kitchen knives which Maximov has used beforehand to travel from the floor to Wilson's right arm. The man screams out of pain, drops his gun and immediately starts to apply pressure on the wound. Quite an impressive amount of blood is already dripping on the carpet. Loki wonders if he has managed to cut several veins, but it does not matter, he intends to kill him right away.

However, a sharp burn on his neck slows his next move. The god groans out of pain, feeling some sort of tiny hooks piercing his flesh. Out of the corner of his eyes, he notices that Wilson has managed to use his control panel, and that the burn is coming from a taser tied to his drone.

"This..." Loki snarls, despite the ache on his neck "... Is ridiculous!"

He extends his open hand towards the accursed machine, then starts to progressively close it. The structure of the machine instantly begins to crack, some sparkles appearing here and there. Loki's hand is shining with green light, and he refuses to care about the pain starting to develop in the back of his head, sign of a too intense use of his telekinetic powers. Even more, what feels like pure anger rushes into his hand, and he violently moves it away from the drone. As a result, the latter is literally ripped in two, and fuming metal pieces fall around Wilson, giving him a taster of what he is about to experience.

Loki neglectingly takes off the two little wires stuck to his neck, still staring at the Midgardian. Who is on his knees, panting, still attempting to repress the blood running from his wound, and looking at him with all the hatred he can display. At least, he is clever enough to understand that running away is useless.

The god waves his hand again and the second kitchen knife flies right at it. However, before he has the time to thrust the blade into Wilson's chest, his body is hit by a colossal force.

No need to wonder where it comes from. Loki's head is ringing, and when he looks around him, he notices that he has literally been sent through the wall of the bedroom, and is now laying, covered with dust and plaster, in the corridor of the compound.

He tries to get up as fast as he can, but his limbs are unsteady. The Witch did not pull her punches. How _stupid_ he is to have spared her!

When he finally stands, he sees Maximov walking towards him, red light shining around both her hands.

"I won't let you kill him." She declares.

"I see..." Loki -well, the illusion Loki has just set in place- sneers "Well done, Witch. Vowing not to harm us, to let him do the work. Technically, you did not break your promise. I might borrow that one."

"I had no idea he would do such a thing!" Maximov protests, still on her guards "Listen, we can still..."

"I have listened more than enough." Loki's illusion cuts, after which Loki -the real one- emerges from behind the woman's back, ready to strike.

He almost succeeds. Almost. The Witch is taken by surprise, this is a fact, but she does possess impressive reflexes, and her powers stop his blade right in front of her eyes.

Loki cannot move. Red light is surrounding his entire body, suppressing any form of control he has. The Witch does not even need to blink for his right hand to open and drop the knife it was holding. Loki feels disgustingly powerless, as he notices how effortlessly she subdues him. However, he only starts to be truly afraid when he catches sight of her eyes.

They are shining red. _Menacingly_ red.

"Then, I won't let you kill anyone else." She coldly declares.

Unable to resist the Witch's overwhelming power, Loki finds himself on his knees, completely unable to defend himself.

And alone.

"This is unfair..." Maximov hisses "That someone like you got to survive..."

The person he has in front of him has nothing to do with the one he saw a handful of seconds ago. Gone are the Witch's hesitation and remorse. Gone is her humanity, he might ironically add. Now, Loki is facing a killing machine.

"Were you not... sorry for that... earlier on?" He articulates, attempting to bring her doubts back.

The woman's answer downright signs his death warrant.

"Wanda will be sorry." The Witch asserts "But I won't."

This time, when she moves her hand, Loki feels his head being violently twisted to the left, and his eyes widen in fear when he guesses her intention. She is going to snap his neck, as simple as that.

There is not the slightest trace of regret in the Witch's red gaze. Rather, Loki can read... Satisfaction.

He is going to die, here and now. He cannot think. _Going to die_. Cannot think. _Here and now_.

"So, who are you?"

As soon as the metallic voice resonates in Loki's ears, the feeling of relief is so intense that he would probably have collapsed, were he not completely ensnared by the Witch's telekinetic abilities.

The position of his head makes it hard for him to have the full picture, however, he clearly catches sight of Nebula and, most importantly, of the gun she is currently pointing at Maximov -or whoever Maximov claims she is.

"You can sneak up on me too..." The Witch furiously hisses.

It takes Loki a moment to recall what she actually means by that. Evidently, the cyborg continues to possess the ability not to be seen by any sort of psychic detection, which Morgan has given her, the same way himself still benefits from this odd type of invisibility.

As for Nebula, she does not answer anything. She does not even make the slightest move, maintaining a perfect distance, not too close to Maximov, but not too far away either, which keeps her chances to miss a shot fairly low. Her face, at least what Loki can see of it, is expressing the purest kind of determination. The message is limpid: _I will not play your game, or anyone else's._

"Let him go." Nebula orders.

Maximov has her back turned on Loki, as her attention is now solely focused on the cyborg. He cannot see the emotions her face is displaying, if this foreign personality, slowly emerging from the depths of the Witch's damaged mind, is able to express any emotion at all, apart from genuine sadism.

A few seconds later, Loki feels like his body is as light as a feather, and barely notices that he stumbles. Only when he touches the floor does he realizes the red light has stopped ensnaring his limbs.

"Huh... you again..." Morgan's erratic voice suddenly echoes, right behind him, which draws a sharp tension down Loki's back.

Nevertheless, when the god of Mischief stands up, he can see that the Witch is starting to lose her assertiveness, as she finds herself surrounded by three potential opponents.

"Whoever you are... you're really here..." Morgan articulates, with as much clarity as she can muster, still panting heavily.

Maximov is now staring at Morgan, with a mix of disgust and wariness.

"I am M." She finally tells.

Loki exchanges a rapid look with Nebula, who is apparently as lost as him. Then, the silence is broken by a raucous cough.

No, actually, it's laughter. Correction: it's Morgan's laughter.

It is visibly painful for her, but she cannot seem to help it. She is holding the left side of her chest, where her wound is. Were they not in such critical situation, Loki would have thrown her on the nearest bed he could find and tie her to it for the next fifteen hours.

"This is..." Morgan finally lets out "The dumbest name... ever!"

"Wanda _needs_ me." M -since it is now a name, though Morgan is right, it really is stupid- declares.

At the sight of the Witch's hateful gaze focused on Morgan, Loki steps between the two of them. Though Morgan seems as hard to kill as he does, she has been massacred enough.

"Has she lost her mind?!" Nebula ragefully asks Morgan and Loki, while not taking her eyes off her target.

"Rather, she has found another." Loki sternly explains.

"And what does... Wanda... _need_ you for?" Morgan painstakingly inquires.

"To protect her from people like you." M spits, her eyes growing even brighter.

"Ha!" Morgan smirks, a trickle of blood running from the right corner of her mouth "Yeah, yeah, I'm... obviously... the villain here... So... if you move... I blow your mind... literally..."

"Oh no, you won't." Says a fifth voice, evidently followed by the more than recognizable sound of an unlocked trigger guard. Some conventions never change.

Wilson again. Despite the knife in his arm, he is still able to hold a gun, directed right at Morgan's head. Typical. Loki is not even infuriated anymore. Something like weariness, rather. The man is as stubborn as a mule, or, even worse, as Thor.

And Morgan does not seem destabilized either. She gives Loki a smile where both _don't worry, I know what I'm doing_ and _I can't take it anymore_ can be equally read. The god of Mischief is a bit unsure of what prevails.

True, she seems about to fall. Her right hand is still holding her chest, stained by blood, and her legs are swaying a little. The fact that the wound on her skull has not re-opened yet is a meagre consolation.

Despite all of this, Morgan does not look ready to collapse. Her eyes are shining with both the golden tint created by her abilities, and a frustration which is probably about to burst.

"You really are half-baked." She tells Wilson, on a very tranquil and very threatening tone.

"And you talk _too much_!" M suddenly roars, before letting a shockwave of pure energy out.

The impact makes the four of them stumble, but it is not strong enough to hurt them. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki notices that both Nebula and Morgan have been thrown to the ground but seem relatively unscathed (rather, in Morgan's case, no more than she already is).

However, when multiple objects, such as shards of glass and chunks of what previously was a wall, start to fly around the Witch, whose gaze conveys nothing but ferocity, things start to get slightly more tensed.

Even Wilson seems to get it.

"Wanda?" He articulates "What are you..."

"She's turning delirious, can't you see?!" Nebula shouts at him.

The Witch is now staring at Morgan and Loki, as red light surrounds her entire body, making her slowly levitate.

"You should never have come." M threatens.

Loki immediately feels Morgan's hand on his forearm, as she rushes next to him. He has no time to ask her what she exactly has in mind that she extends her right index finger towards the Witch, as if she only wanted to point her out.

"_Backwards_." Morgan commands, with a loud and clear voice, deeper than the one she usually has.

The effect is immediate. Not only does the light stop flickering around Maximov, but her eyes briskly lose their brightness. She collapses on the floor, visibly unconscious.

Also, all the lights in the corridor instantly turn off.

* * *

The dim evening glow is not of a tremendous help. The compound hallway has unexpectedly been plunged into darkness, and Loki can hardly discern Morgan, next to him, as well as Nebula, a few feet away.

"What the...? What did you...?" Sam Wilson (oh right, that one is still here) stammers, visibly dumfounded.

Without a word, to make sure that the Midgardian will not attempt anything else, Loki walks towards him, takes the gun he is still holding, and breaks it in two. A loud _bang_ echoes in the corridor, as the god can feel the weapon crushing under his fingers.

Then, he takes a long, disdainful look at the man, who has fallen on his knees again, groaning out of pain.

"I think I have been explicit enough." Loki warns.

Next, he turns towards Morgan, well, the blurry Morgan-shaped shadow he can distinguish, who is fortunately still on her feet.

"Are you alright?" He speaks, while simultaneously realizing how stupid his question is.

"Don't... think so..." Morgan hesitates.

"Is she dead?" Nebula asks, coming closer to them, and pointing at the human-sized form laying on the ground (Maximov, that is).

"No..." Morgan answers "She's not dead... I just... pushed the other away... I'm sorry, I need... to sit down..."

Loki helps her leaning against the wall, then sits next to her, as Morgan progressively recovers a somehow steady breath. He can start to distinguish her face, which is marked by pain. Her well-known migraine is probably adding up to the pain she already feels in her chest.

"Did she attack you again?" Nebula questions, not putting her gun away.

"Yeah... but this time... this moron felt compelled... to _intervene_..."

"You better not start to play the victim!" The aforesaid moron (Wilson of course, who else?) suddenly spits.

"I'll shoot you with a rubber bullet from your own fucking drone and you'll see... that you can play the victim much better than me!" Morgan reacts.

"I am afraid you won't be able to do that." Loki alerts.

"Why?"

"I already tore his drone to pieces."

Morgan coughs a little, current equivalent of a laugh. She really does her best; Loki can see how frustrating it is for her not to be able to speak clearly.

"Alright..." Morgan sighs "The cavalry is coming... I think we're in... for a lot of trouble... once again..."

"The usual." Nebula shrugs.

Despite, rather, because of, the anxiety he currently feels, Loki cannot repress a grin.

_Bring it on. _


	7. It is never ending

**Hello and welcome (to the three people in the background who still check this story sometimes)! Though this fic is about trauma in itself, I feel like I should give an additional warning here, because this chapter is detailing the process of a severe PTSD attack, which I tried to make as realistic as possible.**

**Enjoy?**

* * *

"_Like in the good old days_, I suppose you were about to say, Stark."

Iron Man winces, visibly annoyed to see how easily Loki has guessed his very first thought. A satisfied grin appears on the latter's face.

This may appear quite strange (i.e. completely insane) to some people (to most people), but it is indeed in times where theatricality turns out to be rather counterproductive (in extremely irksome, disgracing, and potentially life-threatening situations) that Loki best finds inspiration.

But after all, isn't it what he is supposed to be the god of?

Though he cannot deny that, as Morgan would say, there is a lingering feeling of déjà vu. Beings in chains? Seems to always happen at some point. Questioned by the Avengers? At this rate, he should brace himself for signing some autographs. Locked up in a cell right after having been punched in the face by the last, nonetheless the angriest, Valkyrie?

...

_Sigh._

Loki still cannot open his left eye. Valkyrie was enraged, to put it mildly. She did not appreciate very much Morgan's use of her power on her once again, and Loki is almost glad she took it out on him. Morgan would clearly not have survived.

Though Valkyrie is by far the least of his worries (she hits hard but she only hits once). What he is concerned the most about is...

"Can't say that it doesn't ring a bell." Stark huffs.

The man's attempt at appearing composed is not even one. He seems within an inch of fainting; his unsteady walk and the dark circles under his eyes speak for themselves.

Not as if Loki was in his best shape ever either. When he woke up, in a haze, he took long seconds to look for the debris of the building which had surely fallen right on his head. Everything -Valkyrie's punch, Stark's taser earlier on, even Wilson's attacks and, obviously, the Witch's telekinetic and psychic manipulations- had come back at once, leaving him severely disoriented. Needless to say, the cuffs maintaining his hands behind his back do not exactly help.

Here it is, the most unpleasant aspect of this already tremendous mess.

Thor seems to be... Alright, let's face it, Thor clearly _is_ distrustful of him, now. Loki is fairly certain that the reason why Stark is the one coming to see him is that his hot-headed god of Thunder of a brother is unable to control his temper, and is probably going to spend the next couple of hours deforesting the surroundings of the Avengers compound, to cool down.

So, back to it. Back to wariness, back to isolation, back to _those Hell-forsaken, Asgardian-made cuffs_!

_That_ really hurts. Not the binds themselves, but the fact that Thor, or Valkyrie, still had them. As if they were _waiting_ for Loki to just...

"Hey, Hannibal Lecter, are we going to just stare at each other for the whole night or are you going to say anything to defend your cause?"

Loki takes a stern look at Stark, and sees the Midgardian gulp a little, which sorts of reassures him. Even chained, imprisoned, with a black eye, he remains quite capable of intimidation. Though he would feel much better in a more adequate outfit. The clothes he is currently wearing -a white shirt, well, not exactly white anymore, with the amount of dust adorning it, and dark-green trousers- are of Midgardian fabric, and definitely not the most indicative hint at his regal status.

As said before, in such degrading situations, Loki would only laugh. A prince with no crown, a trickster with no freedom, in short, a homeless god. Almost poetic.

"Defend my cause... How poignant you can be." He snarls, not hiding his contempt the slightest.

What is there left to defend when he is already judged and sentenced? The cage Loki has been thrown into reminds him of the one he had -very temporarily- been locked up in, years ago, on the SHEILD's flying fortress.

It is literally an empty box. He is surrounded by four thick glass walls, which may not be solid enough to resist his strength, but might sufficiently slow him down to warn the Earth's Mightiest Morons. Loki does not know where exactly he is confined. The absence of window, combined to the fact that the much larger room in which his cell is built is only brightened by a series of thin neon lights, leads him to think that he is now standing right under the Avengers' compound.

"Right, maybe not the best way to put it..." Stark sighs "And you know what, I'm so tired of all this wreck, if you really don't want my help, just say it _right now_, so that I don't have to waste my time trying to get you out, and you can freely complain about how unfair the entire world is towards you."

"Overdramatic..." Loki comments, rolling his eyes.

"Look who's talking."

Why can't Loki bring himself to properly scorn this Midgardian?

Of course, Loki knows why. Stark is just one of the most irritating beings he has ever encountered.

No need to add anything.

"And why would you want to help me?" The god cannot help inquiring "You looked like you had well made up your mind, earlier on."

"Yeah, I..."

Stark stops his sentence to take a long, deep breath. Evidently, what he is about to say is going to cost him a lot.

"Okay, I was wrong. About you. I mean, I'm not exactly at my best right now, but... That doesn't change the fact that I clearly owe you an apology."

Five long, very long, seconds of meaningful silence follow. Then, as soon as Loki opens his mouth again, the engineer raises his only valid hand in front of him.

"Just so you know, I'm not gonna repeat that."

"It is going to haunt you forever, though." Loki mercilessly taunts, all smiles.

"Shut up, before I change my mind."

The god of Mischief shrugs, not exactly intimidated. He even settles more comfortably against one of the glass walls (as comfortably as he can, with these cuffs on, and by the way he will have to think about what he can turn them into, as soon as he escapes), legs crossed, and Stark decides to do the same, sitting on the floor, as there literally is nothing else in this vast underground than the two of them and Loki's prison.

"A few hours ago, I was just concerned about that damn press conference we have to give tomorrow... Actually, today, since it's half past midnight." Stark rectifies "And now, I can't even care, because everyone is basically turning insane. Some think you wanna kill us, some start to suspect Wanda's gonna kill us, and now some suggest that it was all a plan of the Wicked Morgan of the West. So, you gotta help me sorting this out."

Loki's gaze suddenly becomes much fiercer, and Stark immediately appears to guess his intention.

"Just so you know, we're not harming her and we're not planning to..."

"Not as if you would succeed." Loki smiles wryly.

He is not really afraid for Morgan. Mmh, that's not exactly true. He _is_ afraid for Morgan, but he is also...

Just a moment. Little flashback ahead.

* * *

He walks out of his prison, his plan unravelling to perfection, right after having dropped the cage he was previously occupying, with, bonus point, Thor inside. The thing is, there is this Midgardian on the floor, who is bleeding to death and yet still manages to defy him.

"You're going to lose."

Loki turns, quite incredulous at the Midgardian's endurance and audacity.

"Am I?" He sneers, wondering if he has to remind him that he is agonizing.

"It's in your nature." He articulates again.

A disdainful smile appears on the god's face, as he presents him with how pathetically disorganized those who thought they had him in their grasp have become.

"Your heroes are scattered. Your floating fortress falls from the sky. Where is my disadvantage?"

And obviously, the Midgardian still has some air in his lungs.

"You lack conviction."

Loki did _not_ expect that. Not at all. He has to muster all his strength for his face not to bluntly reveal how unsettled he feels, and yet knows that he has failed, which enrages him even more.

He can't even start to stammer a miserable line of defence, just to have the last word. And not only is he far from having it, he also gets a very sudden and very painful shot in the chest.

* * *

He really should have taken his weapon first.

Anyway.

These memories have emerged with no prior warning, and Loki almost wants to burst out laughing.

It is so different now. Even more, it is so diametrically opposed.

He was planning his escape, now he has no way out (yet). He had an entire army, a powerful weapon and a grandiose plan (at least what he thought was one), now he has pretty much nothing and no one to fight with.

And yet, despite everything he had, at that time, he was utterly _alone_. Now, despite everything he is deprived of, he has never felt more _confident_. This sensation is new, and, needless to say, pretty pleasant to enjoy.

Sure, he is afraid of what can happen to Morgan (and to him, as side-note). Yet, when he thinks about her, he cannot help imagining her in the same sort of position as his, maybe locked and beaten up (not too much though, there are limits to what he can picture) but always taunting the ones who foolishly hope to intimidate her.

Every time he has ever found himself in chains, which tends to be the case quite regularly, he has been looked at in many ways: scornful, fearful, hateful, which he always pretended not to care about, though being very much aware of every single one of these stares. And now that the heroes of Earth are still so distrustful of him, even after he joined forces with them to kill the Mad Titan Thanos, and suffered unspeakable torments when using the Infinity Stones to bring the billions he killed back to life, well, he really, really does not care that much.

Morgan is always here. She cannot always protect him, the same way he cannot always protect her, and yet she is always here. Always laughing, not at him but with him, and if she could speak loud enough, Loki is fairly certain that she would just yell jokes at him from her cell.

No matter what he has to face, he is going to win, he knows that.

So, back to it?

Back to it.

"The two of you are being giant pains in the ass of everyone, you've made that abundantly clear." Stark rolls his eyes "I still don't get what her powers are about. One second, she's full shamanic mode, the next, she's literally a living EMP."

Loki raises an eyebrow.

"Electromagnetic pulse." The engineer elaborates, before taking a long sigh "She shut down all electronic devices in the compound, earlier on."

The god of Mischief is literally beaming now, and the man's annoyed face does not help.

"I am afraid I cannot help you on that one, Stark."

"I seriously doubt it, but at the moment, that doesn't matter. What I need is... That sounds like the most stupid thing I'll ever ask you, but I need to know the truth."

Loki says nothing, used to the same old tune. God of Mischief, can't be trusted, always betrays everyone, and so on, and so forth, play some melodramatic music in the background.

"We've messed up, each and everyone of us, that's the only thing I'm sure about." Stark continues, massaging his left shoulder with precaution, a move he apparently does out of nervousness "I know something is off, Steve knows something is off, your brother knows something is off, even Sam does!"

"Now _that_, I seriously doubt." Loki snickers.

To the god's satisfaction, Stark cannot hide his little grin either.

"But we're all in the dark, here. And since there's nothing else that frustrates me more than this, apart from having to lock you up in a fishbowl again, I need you to tell me what really happened."

"I humbly accept your offer to let me out, then." Loki declares.

"Hey, that's not what I said!" The engineer protests, though his enjoyment is becoming way too visible.

But very well. Stark wants the truth. Stark will have the truth. Who said Loki was not a benevolent god, seriously?

The truth begins just where Iron Man has left off, that is to say in the common room of the compound, right after everyone left to brood in his or her own corner. So, it turns out coincidences still exist, and Loki indeed stumbles upon Wanda Maximov without any previous intent to do so. Obviously, since he's not such a big fan of screaming _oh no, the Scarlet Witch, please don't kill me_ and run for his life, he starts talking to her.

Why, Stark seems about to ask, well, does he really need a reason? Of course, there is no specific why. He sees her, he suggests they talk, and they talk. Loki's like that. Impulsive.

But let's get to the part where it goes sideways. The Witch just snaps, there's no other way to put it. So, for a moment, Loki's not exactly in the best state of mind, literally and figuratively, to describe accurately what happens, but when he regains the very basic of consciousness, the first thing he sees is Maximov throwing Morgan against a wall. Which, granted, drives him quite mad.

"Quite." Stark huffs.

Quite. Afterwards (no need to expand on the part where everyone screams at each other who's right and who's wrong), what's more interesting is...

"Sorry, pause." Stark interrupts again "Wasn't there also a little something with you and the Guardians? You know, Valkyrie shouting at you that you've hypnotized her again? If you can't recall that, it was right before she punched you in the face."

Oh, that. Sorry to disappoint, but it was Morgan's doing. She found it rather funny.

"You're insane." Stark mumbles.

"Look who's talking." Loki smirks.

Though what follows is a striking example of insanity.

"Wait." Stark cuts, _again_ "How can you be _sure_ that Wanda...?"

Right, Loki isn't exactly _sure_. He has only seen the Scarlet Witch open the door to M, a vengeful and destructive personality, who tried to kill both Morgan and him. Twice.

"But yes, whatever you say Stark, I can't be _sure_." Loki sneers.

"Okay, I get it..." The man whispers, lowering his eyes "It just feels like... It is never ending."

It is never ending.

It is never ending.

It. Is. Never. Ending.

These words start to buzz like hornets in Loki's skull. He mechanically shakes his head a little to get them out.

"So..." Stark hesitantly speaks "What happened to this... M?"

It is never ending.

"Morgan pushed her away." Loki simply answers, hoping for the tenacious voice in his mind to just _shut up_.

"What do you mean, pushed her away?"

It is never ending.

"I can't know for sure, Stark." Loki hisses, finding it increasingly hard to focus "You would better ask her directly, and if you are lucky enough, she will agree to answer you."

It is never ending.

"Well, that's just..." Stark begins, then seems to realize that he cannot end his sentence "... Yeah, we're in deep shit, once again."

It is _never_ ending.

Loki shivers as he hears the voice resonating louder and louder in his head, and feels a terribly sudden sensation of dread creeping down his spine.

_IT IS NEVER ENDING._

The pain is never ending. He has never been _here_; he is still _there_. In the white. In the silence. In the nothing.

Loki suddenly feels his hands shaking behind his back, and _no_, he thinks. Not now, not here, not like that. He can't... He can't what, exactly? What is happening to him?

He doesn't know. However, there is one thing he knows for sure, and it is that _it is never ending_.

He is trapped. Trapped by the white. Trapped by Thanos. Trapped by the red light.

It is never ending. He is always trapped.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Stark calls, which triggers another, more violent wave of panic.

He has noticed. He has noticed something is off. But what is happening to him, exactly? Why is he... Are... Are his hands shaking? Is his breath accelerating?

Why... is... where... what happens... is it real... why _now_?

"You have the truth you asked for, haven't you?" Loki says, mustering what feels like all his strength to just keep a steady voice "Now leave, and do whatever you want with it."

"Wow, I thought you'd remind me to get you out, and now you wanna stay." Stark points out "Your reasoning's really not easy to follow, if you've got one."

Loki feels such an intense rage and disgust at himself that it almost blocks his breath. _Confidence_? Really? How could he even think about this, earlier on? Oh no, he is everything but confident. He is pathetic. He is weak. He is _trapped_.

It is never ending.

Loki wants to fly away. To desperately slaughter whoever stands between him and the way out. Because he has to get out. He has to fly away from... from...

The pain is never ending.

How bad he wishes to be the Scarlet Witch! There is nothing he hates more than being at the mercy of this indescribable suffering, he wants to destroy it, burn it, tear it to shred, he wants it to _stop_!

But he can't... He can't... He's not...

"Loki...?" Stark's voice echoes, increasingly distant.

He knows he cannot fight this powerful feeling of terror taking hold of his body and mind. He has already given up trying to control his breath, now he cannot even focus his gaze anywhere. He is mechanically surveying his prison, to look for a way out, something, _anything_!

But there is no way out. There is nothing. There is just the white. Just the Mad Titan. Just the red light.

He can't flee. He can't fight. There is only one option left: survive.

Wait for it to pass, and survive, Loki repeats himself, wait for the white void to make you insane, and survive, wait for Thanos to break your bones and snap your neck, and survive, wait for the red light to play with your mind as if sees fit, and survive, this is the only thing you can do, _survive_.

He has to... control... breathe... has to... doesn't know... just wait... he must... it will pass, it will pass, it will pass...

"Friday?" The familiar yet so far away voice speaks again, and only then does he realize that he has fallen on the floor and is unable to move.

He must not move. He knows that. Not move.

"_Should I call Doctor Banner?_"

To call... To call someone... Someone else... Someone who might be a threat... Someone who might see... See how weak... See how pathetic he is...

Loki bites his tongue so hard that he can feel blood running down his throat. More to come. It is never ending.

"Nope, you don't call anyone. Open the door."

"_Boss, I don't recommend_..."

"Friday, open this door or I reboot you with Windows 95."

After that, a succession of sounds, a buzz, something sliding, and footsteps. Loki is disoriented, he doesn't know if he is looking at the ceiling or at the wall, everything looks the same, he wants to get out, he wants to _get out_!

But no, he can't. He must wait. He must survive. It will pass. As always, it will hurt a lot, then it will pass.

The footsteps stop. Someone, whoever that is, is now standing next to him. Probably to make him suffer more. Of course, since it is never ending.

"G... Get... Out..." He manages to whisper, which speeds up his breath even more, if it was possible.

"Let's get you out first." The strangely familiar voice mumbles, and before Loki has the time to understand what this sentence means, he hears a neat _click_ behind his back, and the pressure around his wrists disappears.

He immediately presses his hands against his chest, but that does not make the pain he feels go away.

"I know it's hard, but try to slow down your breath, just a little." The person next to him advises, while advancing a hand towards him.

Loki instantly jerks away.

He must not accept anything. He must resist. He must survive.

He straightens up a little, ready to strike. He has no weapon, it does not matter, he will smash his enemy's head against the glass wall, he will punch his face until the latter becomes unrecognizable, he will tear his throat apart if he has to...

"I know how it feels." The voice assures, breaking his train of thoughts.

He can see that there is a man in front of him. He looks tired. Not very young. Not really strong. He has no visible weapon at hand. He has only one hand. His entire left arm is missing.

But the most striking feature of his appearance are his eyes. He is... scared?

"I know how it feels." The man repeats "Cause I felt the same. Still do."

Loki does not move an inch, still on the lookout. His breath is hasty and loud, and he wants air, he wants air so bad...

"Yeah, most people told me that it wasn't real, get over it and stuff, but I knew that it was real. Just like I know you're ready to kill me if I move."

Loki says nothing. He listens. He wants the man to talk more, just to think about anything else than _it is never ending_.

"But you gotta make a choice here." He continues "Either you stay, either you get out. And I know you wanna get out."

There is nothing he wants more than to get out. But he can't. It can be a trap. He has to survive.

And yet, it is not... The man is not...

He is _not_ enjoying this. He is _not_ trying to make him suffer. Then, what can he possibly want?!

"I really, _really_ want to get the fuck out of this room." The man insists, his right arm now clenching his left shoulder tightly "And I want to get you out too, otherwise I'm gonna lose it, I can feel it already."

He is not attacking him. He is not belittling him. He is... He is _like him_. Panicked, and weakened, and looking for a way out.

Maybe he can... No, he... He can't...

It is never ending.

"It... It's never... It's never... ending..." Loki mutters, in a daze, not even realizing if he has spoken out loud or not.

And then... And then he can see real pain, real fearon the man's face (feels like he knows him, but who is he already?). This is so strange. Does he... Does he genuinely _want_ to help him?

Can he... accept something? Can he let himself be even more vulnerable than he already is?

"Y-yeah, n-no..." The man stammers, as confused as him "It's over, but it doesn't feel like it's over, I mean, I just... I just wanna get out of here!"

Loki watches with incredulity as the other man grows even more agitated, looking around him in a way that is more than familiar to him.

Alright, maybe he can try to get out. Maybe he can try to move.

However, even though he perfectly sees himself taking a step forward, his body refuses to obey. He remains frozen, completely unable to stand up.

_What is wrong with me_, he thinks, _why can't I just move, why can't I just calm down, why can't I just stop being so weak..._

"Don't overdo it." The man speaks again "The numbness, it's temporary, it'll go away pretty quickly."

He knows. He has _this_, whatever that is, he has experienced it. He knows what it is, and he knows what to do.

"Get... me... out..." Loki finally asks.

And then, the most unusual answer of all. No sarcasm. No humiliation. No pain either. Just...

"Okay."

He just says okay. He just gets him out. He just grabs his arm to stabilize him, noticing how unsure his legs still are, despite the discomfort it is visibly causing on the left side of his body, where one of his arms is missing. He just helps him and that is all. That is absolutely all.

When the two of them finally rush outside, on some sort of balcony or whatever, they just breathe, without bothering to articulate a single word.

Alright. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Fresh air in his lungs, it feels so good, so liberating. He progressively regains some clarity, and realizes that the night has fallen. He is still in the Avengers compound. He is with...

Stark.

The man has sat down, his back against the wall, eyes closed. He is trembling a little. Loki looks at his own hands. He surely is in no better state.

"If you wanna go, I've never seen you." Stark bluntly declares, without moving an inch.

"What?" Is the only thing Loki can answer.

"Think you've been through enough." Stark clarifies "Steve and the others will probably sulk for a while, but if you want to go, I can make sure no one finds you again."

Some standard answers like _I don't need your help_, or _why would you even do that_ naturally come to Loki's mind, nevertheless, he cannot deny that he is faced with a very tempting perspective.

He could just go away. He could... do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, without having to conform to anyone's expectations, which always seems to be unsuccessful, whatever he attempts.

Loki doesn't know for how long he has been thinking, because when he looks at Stark again, well, the place where Stark previously was, the latter is gone.

The god of Mischief turns around. The night air is simply delicious to inhale. From where he is standing, he can hear the wind ruffling the branches of the trees nearby, and see the distant lights of the city.

It would be so simple. He would become whoever he wants, whatever man or woman, and just... do as he pleases. He would be free.

_And alone._

Loki clenches his teeth and grabs his hair, ignoring the ache it causes him. He doesn't know what to do. He is equally torn between two perspectives. What to do? Where to go? How to choose?

He falls on his knees, physically and mentally exhausted. At the moment, the only thing he desires is to rest.

And to seek some counsel. More. Some support. Some comfort.

He doesn't want to be alone.

But he doesn't want to be trapped, ever again.

Loki sits down, his back against the balcony. His breath has become steady again. He closes his eyes to better focus.

_Morgan, I need some advice._


	8. Is this love?

**Hi there! I hope you will like this chapter (though by now, I suppose only CurtisMcQueen8 still reads this story)! Honestly though, I'm quite curious about why no one else seems to appreciate it anymore. I would really like to know if there's any specific reason. Is it boring? Is is annoying? Is there too much or not enough of a character? Are the updates too slow? I won't attack anyone, I just want to have some kind of explanation. That being said, enjoy!**

* * *

Eyes closed; Loki breathes. _Slower_, he thinks, _just a little slower_.

Establishing the connection is much harder than usual. He tries not to think about it, not to think about the fact that he can normally create a projection of himself in the blink of an eye, not to think about how exhausted he feels and how frustrated he grows, especially not to think about how he has just emerged from a state of sheer panic right before Tony's eyes.

Well done.

Wait, since when does he call him _Tony_?!

Norns, he has to focus. He breathes. Again. Again. As always, he must simultaneously visualize himself, as well as the person he wants to be seen by. Also known as Morgan.

Better. Thinking about Morgan, that he can do without much difficulty.

When he finally opens his eyes again, he is not staring at the sky anymore.

"Hey." Morgan simply says.

She is evidently surprised to see him appear before her all of a sudden, yet the placidity of her reaction is mostly due to the utmost tiredness which all her body expresses.

"Hi." He replies, just as tranquilly, also, as clueless as her about what to add (which is extremely rare for both of them).

Loki does not know exactly where she is, rather, where they are. The room Morgan is confined to has no window either. It has a bed however, and she is sitting with her back against it.

"How do you feel?" He asks, though he is more or less certain of what the answer is going to be.

"Miserable." She huffs, a sardonic smile on her lips "You're lucky not to have come earlier."

"Why so?"

"I spent something like an hour throwing up."

Loki does not react to her sort-of-provocation, an explicit way to say that his tendency to materialize projections of himself without prior warning may one day turn against him. Nevertheless, she looks much more relieved than irritated to see him. And Loki can say the same towards her.

But he also hates to see Morgan like this, so weakened and vulnerable. Though, contrary to him, her face bears no new bruises, the dark circles under her half-closed eyes are dreadfully impressive, and their effect is doubled by her abnormally pale skin. The bandage around her head has been changed, yet her laborious breath indicated how painful the wounds on her skull and chest must feel. At least she is not wearing any cuffs, which, let's face it, is the most stupid and ineffective way one can think about in order to hinder her power.

"What about you? Are you hurt?" Morgan questions, her voice marked by uneasiness.

Loki tries to appear as reassuring as he can, though he knows that he is wasting his time. As ironical as it is, there are limits to how he can shape a projection of himself. It is one thing not to show his black eye, it is another to display a perfectly confident face when he is everything but confident, at the moment.

"I needed to see you." He admits, openly choosing not to answer.

"Where are you now?" Morgan inquires, on the same, if not even more, anxious tone.

"Outside the compound." He winks "Ready to get both of us out."

"Sounds good." She nods "After all, nothing really holds me back here."

Of course, Loki thinks, why would she wish to stay among a plethora of individuals each able to harm her, imprison her, kill her if needs be? Why would _he_, Loki, wish to stay among the very same people who have defeated him, and, for most of them, still despise him?

Well, there is one major reason why. And it's not hard to guess.

"I see..." Morgan whispers "Your brother..."

Loki remains silent.

His brother, indeed. In the end, it always comes back to his brother.

He loves Morgan in many different ways. As a woman he adores to contemplate, as a friend he longs to listen and talk to, and even as himself. She is a mirror where he sees his own reflection, both identical and reversed. Whatever Loki chooses to do, he bets Morgan can cope with it, and the opposite is equally true.

But Thor... Ow. Different. Difficult. Discouraging, most of the time.

Sometimes, Loki hates him. Sometimes, Loki fears for him. In a split of a second, he can go from anger to relief, from jealousy to hope, when it comes to his brother. Loki can despise Thor, Loki can support Thor, in short, the only thing Loki can't do with Thor is to forget him.

His brother is always here, and with him the chaotic memories of their more than chaotic life (which apparently is another thing Loki is supposed to be the god of, but let's be serious, have you ever thought about managing chaos as a profession? Chaos can't be managed, that's why it's chaos. Morons.) In the end, no matter how he feels towards him, Loki cannot ever _not care_ about Thor.

Even when it has to do with Morgan?

Even when it has to do with Morgan.

"Do you really want to get out of here?" She queries.

Loki moves closer to Morgan, sitting with his back against the bed (the back of his illusion, to be more accurate).

"I foolishly thought it was over." He hisses.

The memories will not go away. Not only the memories of the everlasting whiteness in which he has been trapped for so long, or the memories of the countless times he thought his end had come by the end of the Mad Titan, but also memories of the red light making everything surge back, designing the most frightening hallucinations one can think about just for him, and memories of his own paralyzing terror, as he found himself trapped, alone.

Not only will these horrors not go away, even better, they keep adding up.

What is _wrong_ with him? How can his mind be so _frail_?

"I don't think it's foolish at all." Morgan affirms, after a moment of silence "Or if it is, I'm just as foolish as you."

"Are you?" Loki cuts, feeling a wave of resentment, no it is even stronger, of jealousy, submerging him "You appear to be holding on quite well, facing the Scarlet Witch twice, with astounding ease."

There is a part of him he loathes to look at, yet he cannot completely silence. An ancient, scornful voice, reminding him that this _Midgardian_, whose life is so _short_, so _fragile_, seems so much more _resistant_, so much more _powerful_, and that this is not how it _should be_!

However, Morgan's reaction is not the one he expected. Instead of reacting to his words with her owns, either calmly, either in a more vehement way, as she sometimes does, she just... remains silent.

She tightly hugs her knees against her chest, then closes her eyes. A small tear escapes from one of them, and she wipes it away in a rageful move of her right hand. Then, a second one rolls down her cheek. Morgan loudly sighs out of exasperation, and ends up pressing her hand against the upper half of her face.

"Yeah..." She murmurs "I appear... You're right. You've won. You can go."

"Thanks for your permission." Loki scorns.

He starts to regret that sentence approximately two milliseconds later.

_Why_ is he doing that?! And, by Hell, _what_ is he exactly trying to accomplish, here?!

"Get the fuck out of here." Morgan spits "Except if you enjoy looking at me breaking down. Because I deserve that lesson, right?"

Her words feel like a blow to his chest. No, he would never _enjoy_ that, never...

_Would he, though_, the nagging voice he tries to repel continues, because after everything he endured, after having been degraded so many times, isn't he _desperate_ to keep _some control_ over _someone_...?

He is hurting her, Loki realizes, as Morgan is turning her head away from him and vainly attempting to calm her already erratic breath, he is hurting her in a way no one else in this compound is able to.

"Why are you here?" Morgan accuses, with a trembling voice "Why did you come?"

_Because I am lost_, he instantly wants to say, _because I am hurt. And the only way I manage to express that is by hurting someone else. _

Why is he like that?

"How..." He starts "How did you do it, after you got out?"

"Wh-what?" Morgan balbutiated, withdrawing her hand from her face, humid with tears and sweat "How did I do what?"

"After you got out of Whatever-its-name... how did you do?"

He desperately wants to know how. How did Morgan manage to _survive_ after so much pain, how did _she_ do it and why is _he_ uncapable of doing the same?!

"How did I do..." Morgan slowly repeats, staring at the wall in front of her "I don't know, I... I went to see Som..."

Loki's eyes widen. Som, Morgan's friend, maybe her only friend, he doesn't know, but her most important friend for sure, what could he _do_, exactly? As far as the god of Mischief is concerned, apart from the teleportation ring he stole from Midgard Masters of the Mystic Arts, he is not gifted with any powers. How did he manage to help her?

"The first time, I was so lost between what was real and what was not, I tried to cut my wrists with the pieces of a broken glass." Morgan whispers, still not looking at him "He was so panicked, and I couldn't even properly explain what had happened to me. I don't know how many times I went to see him, or just called him in the middle of the night because I couldn't take it anymore..."

"But..." Loki insists, increasingly confused "How did you do... on your own?"

She finally turns towards him again, eyes tainted by sadness.

"I was never on my own... Som has his life, he couldn't always be next to me or talk to me. And sometimes, he really was a mess too. But he was always on my side. And with _that_, I could do anything. Don't ask me why, I went to Australia on my own to deal with Whatever-its-name, and by the way it was a real bitch move because I told him at the very last minute and didn't phone him for months on end. But the reason I could deal with what happened to me was that whenever he would hear me call for him, he could come. And you see, he did."

Morgan pauses. Talking that much has apparently exhausted her even further.

"So, I can't answer you." She concludes "Because I don't know how I would have done without him."

Loki breathes out. He is almost certain that, was his conscience not tied to the projection of himself he created, he would also be crying. Fatigue, nightmares, he can feel his body slowly giving up under so many assaults.

So, he can't do it alone. He can't rely exclusively on himself. He actually has to _show_ how vulnerable he is.

"It is going to take time." He lets out, on a visibly discouraged tone.

"It is." Morgan nods "And no matter how much time it takes, I'm on your side."

Something comes back inside him, a feeble, yet warm, sensation he has already grasped earlier on. Maybe his mind is not so frail. After all, even with all the powers she was born with, Morgan is far from being able to face everything on her own.

He tried surviving alone. Doesn't work. Well, it works to an extent, but on the long term, pretty poor results ahead. Maybe he just has to learn how to do it differently.

It is going to take time; of that he can be certain. His overwhelming pride and doubts are still there, and he can't get rid of them that easily. But maybe there is nothing utterly wrong with him.

"I am sorry for what I said." He apologizes.

"Apologies accepted." Morgan smiles "Oh, by the way, we've got company."

"Who?" He questions, remembering just in time that she can sense the presence of living beings around her.

"The Black Widow, ladies and gents. With someone else, that's strange, I don't know her name, I wonder... Not a threat, anyway. They're probably going to question me about all this mess."

"Do you want me to leave?" Loki cautiously asks.

For a couple of seconds, Morgan does not answer. She repetitively closes and opens her fists, a habit she has to release the tension.

"Can... Can you stay?" She requests.

Loki acquiesces. Morgan needs him too, the same way he needs her. Plus, let's admit it, he is looking forward to watching what's about to happen.

* * *

"This doesn't have to take long." The Widow informs.

"Terrible way to start, if you ask me. It's like introducing your sentence with 'it's not illegal'. Bad omens." Morgan sneers.

Loki chuckles. He simply adores this position, not seen not heard by anyone else than Morgan. This is going to be fun.

"If you insist, we can make that complicated. Up to you." Romanov dryly orders, leaning against the wall.

"And, you are?" Morgan casually asks the other woman, fully ignoring the Widow's warning.

"Here for a check-up." She readily answers, which draws a small smile on Morgan's face.

Her face vaguely rings a bell in Loki's mind, but he is unable to put his finger on it. She is not very tall, probably a little older than Romanov, and has long, wavy brown hair. Her face is marked by apprehension, but also by concern. Judging by the kit she just put on the floor, she is indeed a Midgardian healer, both wary of what Morgan is able to do and attentive towards whoever is wounded.

She looks honest and compassionate. Two traits Loki (and probably Morgan) would normally take advantage of, but which he is truly relieved to see, for the time being.

"I am going to take a look at your injuries." She informs "Then, Nat has some questions for you."

"Terrific." Morgan sighs "Right, _Nat_?"

Telling look from the Widow.

"I think she likes you." Loki comments.

"Is your head still hurting?" The other woman inquires, kneeling by her side.

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki notices that the Widow's casual position is only feigned.

"Romanov is ready to attack you if anything goes awry." He informs Morgan.

"Not at the moment." The later answers "Though an hour ago, it was hurting like hell."

"You have a minor concussion." The doctor informs "Any nausea, dizziness, light sensitivity?"

"Yes, yes and yes."

"Follow my hand with your eyes."

Morgan calmly compels with any given instruction, as the women checks her vision, her reflexes, then examines her wound. However, when she briskly jerks her head away with a moan, indicating the discomfort it causes, the Widow immediately takes the gun out of her holster.

"Jumpy." Loki notes.

"It's okay, Nat." The brown-haired woman assures.

"Oh, come on!" Morgan rolls her eyes "If you wanna shoot me, just get it over with already!"

"After what happened, you're never too careful." Romanov admits, putting her weapon back but not letting her guard down.

"I don't think the effects of your concussion will last long." The doctor declares "Though I would recommend doing a CT scan later on, just to be sure."

"Awesome." Morgan placidly says, which makes it harder and harder for Loki not to laugh "By the way, what happened to Doctor Banner?"

"He was treating Sam's wound, and now he's taking care of Wanda." The still-unknown-though-not-that-unknown woman replies, her tone suddenly much more severe.

"You seem to know them all pretty well." Morgan remarks, as the other woman avoids her gaze, focusing instead on checking her pulse.

"Don't answer her." The Widow advises her friend "And she couldn't harm you, even if she wanted to."

"But she can still think." Morgan quips "Let's see... I've definitely seen you somewhere, you're familiar with all the Avengers without being one, and you're very close to _Nat_... My bet is on... Drumrolls... Clint Barton's wife!"

The effect is immediate. The Widow frowns, whereas Barton's spouse downright jumps with surprise. As for Loki, he gives Morgan a thumbs up.

"Nice guess." He compliments.

"I mean, it was not that hard to find, you gave me way too many clues." Morgan giggles.

"Alright, that's enough." The former SHIELD agent decrees, taking a step forward "I told you it was a bad idea."

"Wait." The woman tells Romanov "Don't worry about me. As you said, she can't harm me."

"No need to be so dramatic." Morgan points out "I just want to know your name, that's all. Stop thinking I just want to mess with everyone's mind cause it's fun."

"Isn't that what you're trying to do, though?" The Widow inquires.

"Meh. A bit." Morgan shrugs.

The expression of Barton's wife suddenly darkens.

"Sensitive topic." Loki reminds.

"Oh... Uh... Sorry?" Morgan innocently smiles.

"You can be sorry by not saying a word." Romanov warns.

"Well, that's going to make _your_ job way more diffi- _aouch_!"

Morgan's exclamation is due to Barton's wife personal vendetta, which was to apply a slightly stronger pressure right on the injury caused by Wilson's drone.

One more, and Loki kicks the door open, throws Morgan over his shoulder and runs away, regardless of who stands before him.

"That... was... low..." Morgan pants, doubled over.

"Not lower than what you did." The doctor accuses.

"Hey, if it reassures you, your husband already smashed my schnoz. You don't need to _avenge_ him again."

"And you don't need to add fuel to the fire. As for your ribs, nothing serious either. Three of them are cracked, you will need to avoid any abrupt move over the next couple of weeks. I'll get you some painkillers."

She stands up and walks to the little bathroom next door.

"Just so you know, both Clint and I were strongly against her coming to check up on you." Romanov coldly presents "But she kept insisting."

"So, your point is...?" Morgan inquires.

"A little decency would not kill you."

"If by decency you mean submission, my answer is: _niet_."

Slow clap from Loki.

Barton's wife enters the room again, breaking the growing tension, and hands Morgan a glass of water and a tablet.

"Thank you."

Morgan's expression of gratitude seems to catch the doctor off guards. She picks up her medical kit and stands up, ready to leave the room. However, she stops right before opening the door.

"Thank you too." She tells Morgan "For... bringing us back."

Morgan raises her glass.

"Cheers."

* * *

"What did you do to Wanda?" Romanov immediately asks.

The door is barely shut that the Widow attacks. However, Morgan begs to differ. She takes her time to drink, then settles more comfortably against the bed, feigning not to care the slightest about the woman standing in front of her.

Oh, how much Loki enjoys that. Even at a clear disadvantage, Morgan is nearly impossible to break. And he is all the more flattered when he knows that his mere presence is enough to give her the energy she needs.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem to say that I purposefully attacked her." She finally answers "Which I didn't do. I defended myself, and I would do it again if I need to."

"That was not what I asked." The Widow insists "Whether or not you hit her first is not my concern. I want to know _what_ your powers did to her."

"I assume she hasn't woken up yet." Morgan thinks out loud.

"You do not ask the questions here."

"That was not a question, but an assumption." Morgan teases, and Loki can almost read word for word on her face _I can play this little game for as long as you want_ "And I would have a hard job answering you. The mind of Wanda Maximov is... special. She is becoming someone I can't really describe."

"If that's so, why did you come to see her a second time?"

Morgan angrily sighs, crossing her arms.

"What do you want to know, exactly?" She defies.

"Pretty simple: I want to know if you are a threat to us." The former spy reveals.

"Then, today's your lucky day: I'm not a threat to you, unless you want me to be."

"You're really not making things easy."

"Well, thank you."

Loki stares at Romanov's stunned face with utmost delight.

"Implosion in three... two... one..." He announces, enjoying Morgan's deep breaths in order not to burst out laughing.

"How old exactly are you?" The Widow sighs.

"No, _you_, how old are you?!" Morgan suddenly reacts "You think I'm childish? Okay, you're right. But honestly, look at you people! You're desperate to find the _bad guy_! You want a villain to fight! You want to know what happened?! I messed up! Your witch friend, guess what, she messed up too! And don't forget your other friend, Wilson! He shot me in the chest, but that's fine, right, because it's a rubber bullet?!"

"You seem to be forgetting someone." Romanov cuts.

"Obviously..." Loki snarls.

"Yeah, cherry on the cake, right?" Morgan replies "Of course, it's definitely Loki's fault! After all, you fought him, so how could you _possibly_ be wrong about him?"

A little mocking smile appears on the Widow's face.

"Is this love, Morgan?" She questions.

To say that Loki is the one holding grudges. Really?!

"Of course, it is love, _Natasha_." Morgan sarcastically mirrors.

"Which can make you blind." Romanov warns.

"Are you going to tell me about the dirty tricks he played on you? About the destructions he caused and the people he killed?"

Loki feels almost distant, watching the scene from afar. What a strange feeling that is, to watch Morgan listing all his deeds and claiming _yes, I take all of that, thanks_.

Even Romanov appears a little unsettled.

"Or maybe you could tell me about your life as an assassin before the one as an Avenger." Morgan continues "After that, maybe Tony Stark can tell us about how he went from the Merchant of Death to Iron Man?"

"And what can _you_ tell me?" The Widow demands.

"I can tell you that I changed. Like... you. Like... ev-ry-one..."

Morgan's speech is suddenly becoming more erratic, as she has to take more frequent stops to breathe. She starts to wince, holding her chest with precaution, then to cough. When she withdraws her hand from her mouth, Loki and her simultaneously notice the blood on it.

"Oh, fuck." Morgan sighs.

"I'm getting you out of here." Loki decides.

"I'm getting Laura." Romanov declares, before apparently realizing that she has spoken the name of Barton's wife out loud.

"Wait, no... No need..." Morgan tells the two of them "I'm okay, I just... spoke too much... Poetic justice, I know."

"I didn't say anything." The Widow smirks.

"You were thinking... way too loud."

"So, what now? We just let you and Loki out, and that's the end of it?"

"Honestly, yeah... We all need a break... I mean, we fought Thanos... Big deal... And... Hey, you're all fuzzy now..."

"What?" Romanov reacts.

"I think I'm gonna pass out." Morgan whispers.

She does, two seconds later, which instantly brings Loki back to his body.

The sensation is brutal, because so unexpected. He briskly opens his eyes. Alright, not a second to lose. He has to get her out.

Though he might have a slight delay. The reason for that is standing right in front of him.

"I think you have some explanations to give me, brother." Thor starts.

_Aaaaand, here we go again._

* * *

**Yeah, Laura Barton is here! Her profession as a nurse/doctor is only a hypothesis, though if I'm relying on the Age of Ultron part where she can feel Clint's wound, I would suppose that she has some professional experience. But who knows. **


	9. This is the truth

**Thank you very much, CurtisMcQueen8 and WickedlyMinx, for telling me what you think about this story! Indeed, it is supposed to be much shorter than Whatever-its-name, so there is no such developped plot. I kinda took every possible direction, mostly exploring Loki's reaction to trauma in itself, and wanted more interactions with specific characters, then I wanted things to be dramatic, then funny, then sad again. I was constantly jumping from one idea to another. So yeah, I'm definitely not focused enough on one main event... **

**That being said, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter to some extent. Mostly about some Asgardian brothers having to sort things out. **

* * *

"Brother, what a nice surprise." Loki begins, with one of the most insincere smiles he has ever bestowed "I did not expect to see you here."

"I can say the same to you." Thor coldly replies.

The god of Thunder's aura is one of carefully stabilized infuriation. He is standing right in front of Loki, who is still sat with his back against the stone balcony of the compound. A slight tip of the scale, and Thor explodes, literally and figuratively, with perhaps a little help from the Storm-breaker fella nearby.

A slight tip of the scale...

Funny, Loki can almost distinguish his rational self in front of him, adamantly saying _no, no, no, not a good idea_, and he thinks that he still has a rational self, life is full of surprises.

"If you're about to ask how I got out, you can directly ask your dear friend Stark here." He suggests, illustrating his statement by pointing at the door.

As soon as his Thor's gaze turns away from him, Loki stands up, leaving the illusion in place. Truly impressive, he manages to take four full steps before his brother's weapon is thrown in his way, thrusting into the wall so close to his face that Loki is perfectly able to see his own reflection in the shining metal of the blade.

The god of Mischief turns around.

"I would like to point out that you literally fell for the 'look, behind you' trick." He grins "Not very encouraging."

"You might want to choose your next words very carefully." Thor announces, which sounds like the last warning before Loki finds himself with two black eyes, not something he looks forward to.

"And will you even listen to them?" Loki mocks, arms slightly open.

"Loki, enough!" Thor roars, and as he speaks, the wind starts to blow furiously around them, prelude to what can escalate to an actual thunderstorm "No games, no tricks, no more empty words! I need one thing, and one thing only! I need the truth!"

As his brother speaks, rather, screams those words, all certainty and playfulness leave Loki's mind at once, letting settle this so familiar and so devastating sensation of... emptiness.

The truth. This is the only thing that matters to Thor, that Norns-damned truth.

"The truth, brother," Loki angrily starts, "is that I..."

And then, he stops. The truth is...

_I want to go away._

_I want to stay by your side._

_I don't want you around._

_I desperately need you._

"I..." He stammers a second time, fully aware that each second that passes makes him look more and more like a dimwit.

_I feel lost._

_I am lost._

_I..._

"I lost." Loki finally says, and these two words are the most painful he has ever pronounced, because they are unquestionably _true_.

"What?!" Thor reacts, visibly disconcerted, which makes the wind around them progressively decrease "What do you mean?"

"There is no hidden meaning here, brother!" Loki spits "To lose, I believe you know what this word signifies! Well, the truth is I lost! Against..."

Against everyone and everything. Against the whiteness and the silence. Against the Mad Titan. Against the Scarlet Witch. Against...

Against Thor.

The god of Thunder wins. The god of Mischief loses. This is how the story goes.

And, most of all, against himself.

_Because Loki cannot change._

"How can you say that?!" Thor exclaims "Look around you, brother, we won! We killed Thanos! We brought everyone back! We saved the universe, together!"

"No, _you_ won! You, and your Avengers companions!" Loki corrects "But _I_... I just... survived."

Thor lives and Loki survives. This is how life goes.

"That isn't true!" The god of Thunder claims.

"This is the truth!" Loki affirms "Look at me, Thor, and dare to say that I won!"

He sees his brother trying to objects, but not managing to. Of course, how could he? Loki is not like him. He does not escape from a fight unharmed, he does not turn the page without looking back, he is not as strong, not as confident, not as respectable.

He is not...

He is not a god.

He is...

"Look at me!" Loki repeats "_This_ is the truth!"

He does not exactly realize what he is doing until he catches sight of his own hands turning blue, and when he does, he feels a spark of thrill down his back, galvanizing him further.

_Show him. Make him admit that you are not, and will never be like him. _

Thor's eyes widen. Indeed, Loki realizes, he has never seen his Jotunn form. His red eyes, his blue skin, _his true face_. And then, an even stronger urge comes, the one to see the king of Asgard grab his weapon and swing it right at his neck.

_Do it. Tell me that I deserve it._

_Don't do it. Tell me that you will never give up on me._

"Then, I..." Thor speaks "Then, I don't care about the truth."

_..._

_What?!_

"Wh-what do you mean?" Loki whispers, properly astonished.

"There is no hidden meaning here either." Thor assures, as he slowly starts to walk towards him, which makes Loki take a step backward, out of pure instinct "I don't care about the truth. I don't care about which of the Nine Realms you were born on. I don't care if we do not share the same blood. And I don't care whether or not you claim to have lost."

The god of Thunder comes even closer to him, and Loki finds himself with his back against the wall. _Trapped_...

But Thor does not trap him. He does not harm him. Instead, he puts his hand on his neck, like he often does when he really wants Loki to listen to him.

"You are Loki, prince of Asgard. You are my brother. And you won."

Loki cannot truly describe what happens. It feels like... It feels so good, so relieving, it feels he is not trapped but freer than he has ever been, it feels like... It feels like _love_?!

A part of him still winces at this very word, a part of him still screams in his ear _what are you doing, you are showing your weaknesses, you are revealing how you can get hurt, you fool, you will only suffer even more_, and yet, another part of him, the still fragile, only emerging, not always very sure of itself, screams back _it feels like love indeed, I ought to be proud of it, because I am Loki the god of Mischief, and I am powerful, much more powerful than most beings in this Universe!_

He is trapped, and he is free. He lost, and he is powerful. He is unworthy of love, and he deserves love.

He is _so tired_.

Loki throws himself into his brother's arms, not caring anymore about the tears burning his eyes, and letting them freely run on his cheeks when he feels Thor hugging him back.

Everything is just so out of his control that for once, what the god of Mischief and Lies and Chaos desires more than anything is stability. Loki clings to the reassuring stability of his brother's presence, which feels like the only thing separating him from insanity.

However, when he progressively gets out of Thor's embrace, relief and embarrassment equally vibrating in his chest, Loki notices that the god of Thunder is not exactly the ultimate symbol of invulnerability he likes to pretend he is.

"You're crying." Loki observes.

"I'm not crying, you're crying." Thor awkwardly smiles, fully ignoring the tear rolling from one of his eyes.

"Maybe." Loki smirks, wiping his eyes with a wave of his hand.

He realizes that he is back into his Asgardian form. A rapid glance at his brother's arm is enough to reassure himself: Thor's skin is intact. How? Why? Isn't the smallest contact with Frost Giants supposed to injure even the most resistant Asgardians?

Loki stares at his own hands for long seconds. They are not turning blue again. He is not becoming... _Who_ would he become, actually? His Asgardian appearance belongs to him as much, if not more, as his Jotunn one. Would he be more or less Loki, depending on how he looks and how everyone sees him?

He sighs heavily. It is, indeed, going to take time.

And the drizzle is not really helping him focus.

"Thor..." Loki begins.

"What?"

"You _are_ crying."

"Nonsense."

"It is raining again." The god of Mischief observes.

One of the downsides of his brother's powers. The more he grows, the more his powers grows, and vice-versa. His anger brings a storm, his relief dissipates it, and his sorrow is, well, adequately illustrated.

The thing is, Loki does not exactly know what to do. He has seen Thor angry, he has seen Thor relieved, but he has never seen Thor sad. And he is not talking about profound despair, the one he briefly saw when he was about to die (at least when both his brother and himself thought that he was about to die). Lengthy sadness is something else, less spectacular yet more painful to endure than a brief moment of panic.

"It didn't feel like it..." Thor suddenly whispers.

"What are you talking about?"

His brother hesitates for a long time, visibly not knowing how to answer, and certainly no more at ease than Loki.

"It just... didn't feel like I won... It feels like... Like I survived too..." The god of Thunder lets out.

This time, it is Loki's turn to be truly incredulous. How can _Thor_ say that?! How can he even think about feeling powerless? How can he... How can he feel like he _lost_?

And yet, he also feels... sort of... comforted...

Because Thor, _even Thor_, cannot do everything alone.

He needs his brother, and his brother needs him.

"I keep thinking how easily you... got through all this..." The god of Thunder hesitantly continues, giving up on trying to pretend that he is not crying "How you never stopped finding new ways to get up, each time we failed to kill Thanos... How can you... How can you say that you _lost_, brother?!"

Loki almost wants to burst out laughing, yet bitterness is blocking his throat, so much that even breathing proves to be a challenge.

"Then, I guess we both are a mess." He grins, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder, in a most probably vain attempt to comfort him.

Though it seems to work. A bit. In any case, the god of Thunder does not appear more dangerous than a young dog, with such a gleeful look stuck on his face that Loki must force himself not to throw a stick away and scream _go fetch_, just to see what happens.

"Where did you get that, by the way?" Thor inquires.

The two of them simultaneously raise their eyes to stare at the large black umbrella hovering above their head, protecting them from the rain, which is already starting to fade.

"Don't remember." Loki shrugs "But at least it was not an umpteenth Iron Man merchandise, as three quarters of this compound is. Stark has issues."

"Definitely." Thor chuckles.

Such a long time, since they simply stood together and laughed.

"I cannot remain here." Loki bluntly declares.

"Under this umbrella?"

"Thor."

"Fine." His brother smiles.

"I won't remain with the Avengers any longer." Loki tranquilly continues "Believe me when I say I do not wish them any harm. But I am not interested in assisting them either."

Taken individually, some of them are not, let's say, so disagreeable to talk to. But as a group... As a _team_... Loki winces. First, he has never really been much of a team player. And to this one, specifically, he would never truly be considered an equal. He would be the only one to change, to conform to what is right. No, definitely, this perspective is far from appealing.

"Yeah... They have their way, and you have yours." Thor concludes.

He nods. Though the Loki way does not necessarily mean the lonely way. After all, he has Morgan. And maybe, Som. Most of all...

"That does not change the fact that I will remain by your side, brother." Loki adds "And if you make me repeat that, I turn you into a frog again."

"You've never turned me into a frog." The god of Thunder assures.

"Mmh, living in denial must feel blissful."

Without prior warning, a thought strikes Loki like lightning.

"Also, I'll need you to get your Bifrost-summoning axe out of the door." He requests "Immediately, if you don't mind."

"What happened?"

Oh, nothing serious. He just forgot about Morgan.

* * *

When Loki and Thor, after having lost a ridiculous amount of time trying to find the right room, burst the door open (literally), the first thing they see is that Morgan is not unconscious anymore. Although, hunched with her back against the wall, her right hand on her head and her eyes closed, she has clearly seen better days.

Also, she is not alone. Both the Widow and Barton's wife are sitting next to her, and so is the aforesaid Barton. For whom "nervous" is a beautiful euphemism.

"The fuck are you doing here?!" He exclaims, as soon as he sees Loki, before turning to Thor "Are you _serious_?! Letting him out without warning anyone?!"

_Him_ has a name. Loki still considers turning the archer into a pigeon.

"Do not worry, I was out long before Thor even realized it." He grins, and his satisfaction is doubled by the sight of his brother pinching his eyebrow arch.

Next, as the archer protectively steps in front of his wife and starts to yell at Thor about why Loki is here and how and when and all the rest of it, Loki crouches in front of Morgan, who has not moved an inch since he entered the room.

"Just so you know, Laura had to give her some morphine." The Widow informs him "It dulls the pain, but she might get a little... disoriented, for a while."

Showing is better than telling. Loki extends three fingers in front of Morgan.

"How many?" He asks.

She slowly opens her eyes.

"Six."

_Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh._

He really cannot help it. Maybe because he is dangerously approaching his own breaking point. In any case, he is with Morgan and no one is trying to harm any of them. Plus, there is Thor in the background. So far, so good.

"You should see your face." Morgan starts to giggle.

"Not worse than yours." He mercilessly retorts.

"How romantic." The Widow points out.

Which draws Morgan's attention. She silently stares at Romanov for long seconds.

"Didn't know you had a twin." She finally speaks "Just wanna say, red-haired suits you better than blond."

Loki looks at the former SHIELD agent, who also turns her gaze towards him.

"Told you." She winces.

"Indeed." He nods.

What is exactly happening here? Is Romanov half-showing some sort of concern for Morgan, half-wanting to stick around just to see what happens next?

"It feels like I'm in a dream." Morgan continues "But I'm dreaming that I'm dreaming that I'm here. Is that weird?"

"Very." Loki manages to answer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Widow vainly attempting to mask her enjoyment, which does not make things easy for him either.

"Are you kidding me?! What's going on here?!" Barton's incredulous voice resonates, which is probably due to the sight of both Romanov and Loki laughing together.

"Ouch." Morgan groans, putting both of her hands on her head, visibly upset at the man's loud exclamation "Can you switch him off?"

Only too happy to comply, Loki claps his hands once, letting a spark of green light out. Next, Barton's voice is gone. For a handful of seconds, he does not exactly realize what happened, and the sight of the archer screaming at Loki with no sound coming out of his mouth is worth living for.

"Brother, give him his voice back..." Thor sighs, though Loki discerns a hint of satisfaction in the god of Thunder's voice, as the latter is apparently as exhausted as him of Barton's outburst.

Romanov, however, is everything but amused.

"Loki, stop this at once." She orders, which, obviously, is the worst thing to tell him in order to make him stop.

"Hey, don't talk to him like that!" Morgan, who has managed to stand up Norns know how, protests "Or else, I knock you out with my bike."

An intense silence follows. Loki does not exactly know if Morgan is conscious, or if she is in some sort of sleep-walking state, in any case, she looks like she is enjoying it. Good enough.

"I think I'm high." Morgan notes, in an unexpected moment of clarity.

"Of course, you are!" Barton's wife, Laura, if Loki remembers correctly, suddenly yells, before turning towards him "And _you_, quit your stupid game!"

Loki sighs loudly, before nonchalantly snapping his fingers.

"... gonna make you regret tha-" Barton begins, then stops, noticing that the sounds he makes can be heard anew "Oh, you, bastard, you think it's _funny_?!"

"Quite." Loki, as honest as ever, answers.

"I should never have-"

"Everyone, _stop_, okay?!" His wife cuts "Just... Just take a damn break! Nothing good can come out of this! I mean... There's literally everything going sideways here! How is Wanda..."

Her voice breaks, and she mechanically ruffles her hair, not knowing what to add. Her husband puts a hand on her shoulder, in an effort to reassure the two of them. Loki himself can taste some kind of sour taste in his mouth. What is the Scarlet Witch turning into, indeed? Is this M going to look for revenge? How to know? What to do?

"Half of the world was dead for weeks!" Laura Barton continues "And I can't even imagine what all of you had to endure! So, for once, just stop fighting! Because I can see that _none of you_ wants to!"

She has ended her sentence with a heavy look at Morgan and Loki. She is clearly wary of him; the god of Mischief can easily tell. Which is... understandable, to put it mildly. However, he has not perceived any hatred in her gaze.

_Fine_. Perhaps he can afford to make them understand _one last time_ that he is not against them. One. Last. Time.

"I'm really not trying to fight you people." Morgan precedes him, with no prior warning "First, because you would kill me, that's pretty obvious. Second, because I don't exactly see what I would gain from it. Also, sorry for being a jerk. I can't help it. Coping mechanism, and all that."

She seems to realize that everyone in the room is now looking at her with an expression of utter bewilderment. So, she turns to Loki.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"I'm afraid so." He smiles.

"I'm so fed up with all this." Barton exhales.

"I think we all are." Romanov admits.

_Then, I guess we all need a damn break. _


	10. Are you real?

**Now that I'm confined at my place, I had no choice but to finish writing this chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He _wants_ to sleep.

He _cannot_ sleep.

He _needs_ to sleep.

He _must not_ sleep.

Loki shakes his head a little to dissipate the dizziness. His thoughts are blurry. Even his body feels heavy, as if every single one of his limbs is stuck in some kind of glue.

He is exhausted. He wants to close his eyes. He wants to let go. He wants to lay down, not to think about anything and drift away, let himself be carried by nonsensical dreams, _sleep_.

But he cannot allow himself to do that. Because he is not safe. Most of all, because Morgan is not safe.

A part of him thinks the opposite. He surveys the room he is in; a large window through which he can see the pale light of the moon, a soft bed on which he is settled, and a door which has not been locked. No surveillance. No bars. No chains. Nothing he sees reminds him of a prison.

And yet...

And yet, another part of him keeps repeating that if he ever lets his guard down, if he ever allows himself to be defenceless, all this apparent safety will disappear in an instant, like a mirage. He cannot afford the luxury to sleep, even though every single fibre of his body longs for it.

Morgan moves a little, which draws his attention. He takes a long look at her. Curled in foetal position next to him, she is unconsciously clutching the sheets beneath her. Her slumber, however, is largely due by the drugs she has been given. For better or worse, she will not wake up for hours. The clothes she is wearing, some grey trousers that Midgardians strangely call sweatpants, and a far too large white shirt, make her look even smaller than she is.

The more he looks at her, the more he thinks that he could maybe, just maybe, lie down by her side, feeling her warm skin against his and listening to her calm and steady breath before joining her into a blissful lethargy...

The more he looks at her, the more he thinks about the wound she still has on her head, all the torments she had to undergo and all those she could go through if he allows himself one single second of carelessness...

Loki clenches his fists so hard that he can feel his nails sinking into his palms. All these contradictory thoughts are making it more difficult than ever to think correctly.

The Avengers did not make any move to imprison him again. But he is _still_ in the Avengers compound, playing _their_ game. Not something he wishes to continue.

Morgan pulls the sheet a little closer to her, frowning, then starts to mutter.

"Backwards... Told you... Backwards..."

He takes a closer look at her. She appears to be reliving the moment she repelled M, a newly created personality, back into the depths of the Scarlet Witch's mind.

How did she do it? How exactly did Morgan manage to counter the deranged psyche of Wanda Maximov, furthermore with such an astounding rapidity?

Loki is, by nature, curious. However, more than curiosity, it rather is the literal abhorrence of being considered ignorant that drives most of his actions. Needless to say, he hates being left in the dark regarding the complexity of Morgan's powers.

Nevertheless (and this is something he has only very recently and very reluctantly come to acknowledge) isn't she in the same position than his, when it comes to the mysteries of Asgardian magic, something she manages to _understand_ but not exactly to _discern_?

Morgan still has her fair share of secrets; the same way Loki has his.

But still.

Still.

"Don't..." Morgan whispers again "Backwards... Don't..."

Loki winces. What should he do? Wake her up, so that she does not have to stand this nightmare any longer? Or letting her sleep, because after all, it is only...

He hardly refrains a sardonic laughter at what he was about to think. _Because after all, it is only in her head..._

Because after all, it is never ending.

A disagreeable shiver runs down his spine. Not again, he commands himself, _not again_. It already is unthinkable that he has let his guard down so many times, along the past few hours. He has to...

Loki sighs. He does not even know what he has to do. He has already made clear to Morgan, then to Thor, how powerless he feels. What is he missing? What is he not doing right? Because there is evidently something else he has to say, or to do, or just to think about, and, as always, he cannot put his finger on it.

He kind of wants to scream until his voice breaks.

Slight pressure around his wrist.

He did not even notice Morgan's gesture before feeling her hand against his skin. From the look on her face, she is still caught in this more than unpleasant dream, which Loki has now made up his mind about. Even if she goes back to sleep right away, at least she will most probably not be trapped in the exact same nightmare.

"Morgan." He murmurs, shaking her shoulder a little to wake her up.

It actually takes him long seconds to realize that something is off. However, before Morgan speaks a word, before she merely opens her eyes, he becomes aware of something that is here and should not normally be here.

Her eyes do open and the conclusion is crystal clear.

Her eyes are red.

"There you are, _Loki_."

These eyes are not Morgan's, and neither is this voice. Fear, unspeakable fear, takes hold of Loki's mind, blurring both his sight and his thoughts.

He knows these eyes and this voice all too well.

"Surprise." M smirks, straightening up in front of him.

Without further delay, the god of Mischief seizes her neck, firmly resolved to make that accursed crimson gaze disappear, and slams her on the bed.

"Where is she?" He articulates, almost choking out of rage.

"She's right where I want her to be." M chuckles, apparently not affected the slightest by Loki's move "And you, be careful with her body. You wouldn't like to see another scar on her pretty face, would you?"

The Witch's voice is marked by pure delectation, and her smile only widens when Loki realizes that he cannot harm her without harming Morgan.

_Backwards_, she said earlier on. Isn't he a fool, she was not _dreaming_, she was _fighting_, and he let this happen, because _of course_ he cannot protect her, after all, he does not even manage to protect _himself_...

"What do you want, then?!" He spits "What deal do you hope to make?!"

M, beneath him, starts shaking. Not out of dread, however.

It is laughter. She is _laughing_, deforming Morgan's face with such an unnatural grin that the mere sight of it makes Loki nauseous. He cannot help thinking about how the Witch is using her body as a grotesque marionette, just like...

Just like him.

Just like he used the Sceptre, and just like the Sceptre used him.

_Alright_, he admits, he was indeed both the puppet master and the puppet itself, but this will not help facing the Witch.

Who is still laughing like crazy.

"A deal?!" She exclaims "You really think I came for a _deal_?!"

Her smile becomes even more menacing, her eyes even brighter.

"I don't come for deals." She hisses "I only come for _revenge_."

The last thing Loki can clearly remember is her hand approaching his forehead. Afterwards, it's...

* * *

A familiar scenery. Somewhere he travelled to long ago. A murky grey sky, a desert land, a cold wind in his hair.

"I wish I could trust you." Thor regretfully confesses.

Another place. The Palace halls, Asgard. Chains around his neck and wrists.

"Loki." Frigga whispers, her voice tainted by sorrow "Please, don't make this worse."

What is this? What is happen-

Change again. Memories surging one after the other, without any precise order nor logic.

"It will _not_ be over soon." Thanos warns, all six Infinity Stones glowing on the Gauntlet.

"It's never ending." Stark sighs, outside his prison cell.

Memories. Nothing else but memories. He cannot be harmed.

_Are you sure?_

Whose voice is that?

_The voice of reason, of course. The truth you always refuse to listen._

"No games, no tricks, no more empty words!" Thor orders "I need one thing, and one thing only! I need the truth!"

_And the truth is..._

"I lost." Loki whispers.

_Indeed, you lost. You always lose, don't you understand? _

"Your birth right was to _die_!" Odin shouts.

_True, you should die. Wouldn't it be better for everyone?_

Those memories swirl around his eyes, too fast for him to make sense of what is happening. The only constant thing is this nagging voice in his ears. It sounds like... It sounds like his own voice, but not quite. Very familiar, but different. Weird...

"You will always be the god of Mischief." Thor shrugs.

_See? You cannot change._

Hey, that one is incomplete.

_What?_

Yes, his brother's sentence. He did not only say "You will always be the god of Mischief." He added something else.

"But you could be more." Thor continues.

That's the one. He is much more than what people think he is. And by the way, why is he even listening to them? Why is he listening to this voice, as a matter of fact?

_You can't..._

He can't what, exactly? Can't stop watching some disordered fragments of his own memories, all rearranged to tell a truth he is supposed to believe? What do Midgardians say, already? Oh, right. Fake news.

_It's not..._

It's not...? Please, continue. Nothing to add? Too bad. He is done with listening to all these voices. And he is more than done with mind control. His turn, now.

_But..._

A new landscape unveils before his eyes. The cabin of a spaceship and, outside, the depths of Space.

"Thank you." Thor smiles "If you were here, I might even give you a hug."

Loki catches the carafe cork in mid-air, smirking at his brother's incredulous and cheerful look.

"I'm here."

One last place. A small room, in the Avengers compound.

"No matter how much time it takes, I'm on your side." Morgan vows.

_Stop that! These memories don't matter! Can't you see you're not what you think you are?!_

On the contrary, he can see very clearly.

So, back to the start, shall we?

* * *

Loki grabs both the Witch's hands (Morgan's hand, he knows, but she probably won't hold a grudge for long if, rather, _when_ she will come back to her body) and immobilizes her in front of him, with her back against the wall.

It takes M long seconds of fierce resistance to understand that any attempt at physical combat is more than pointless. Then, she looks daggers at Loki.

His head is spinning a little, his vision is blurry, is ears are ringing, in short, his senses are overall a mess, yet what by far prevails at the moment is _utmost satisfaction_. He flashes a provocative grin at the Witch, who winces out of fury.

"How...?!" She exclaims "You... How did you..."

"How did I repel your little mind games?" Loki presumes "You can only blame yourself for that, Witch. You showed me what you are capable of, earlier on. Pity that I'm a fast learner."

Tightening his grip around her wrists, he brings his face closer to hers.

"Now..." He slowly begins, enjoying with every fibre of his being the sight of this increasingly uncertain red gaze "How about you get out?"

Nevertheless, as if she was not insane enough already, M distorts Morgan's face into a maniacal grin.

"Get out?" She taunts "Get out of your precious little human? You really want her back?"

"Don't make me repeat myself." Loki growls.

He starts to understand what the expression "to see red" really means. Literally and figuratively. The only thing he is able to perceive clearly is the Witch's shining red gaze. The only thing he desires is to erase it, permanently.

"You've never seen her for who she is, have you?" M susurrates "You've never seen her true face. _I_ saw it. You think I'm a monster? But what she can do... I can't even imagine."

Loki clenches his free hand. He can almost feel the air vibrating around him.

Time to stop listening. And change the game a little.

"Very well." He affirms "You asked for it."

True, the gesture helps him focus his magic a little. A conductor, if you wish. But he mostly does it to destabilize the Witch even more.

Loki puts his hand on her forehead and _off you go_.

* * *

The god of Mischief's magic is not something he acquired out of the blue. It is a force he has always possessed, and has learned to control. Everyone in the Nine Realms is born with it, to different extends, of course. Even Midgardians, though their body is totally unable to withstand a flow of energy as any Asgardian's is.

But this Midgardian is beyond comprehension. Venturing into M's mind probably is one of the hardest things Loki has ever attempted.

She is so _strong_. As soon as he enters her mind, he realizes that this is nothing like he has ever experienced before.

Any Asgardian would literally not stand a _chance_ against her.

It is bright, and loud, and painful, _so painful_. He has to navigate between so many visions, sounds, sensations. He has to burst through so many walls M is tirelessly building against him, so many incentives to stop him.

He falls. He chokes. He cannot see and sees too much. He cannot hear and hears too much. All this contradictory information prevents him from stabilizing his magic. Everything within him and around him screams _getoutgetoutgetout_, and _oh yes_, it would be _easy_ and _sweet_ to _get out_, why is he even here, why did he even come in the first place, wait, isn't he looking for someone?

Starts with an M. Is not M.

He has forgotten, he has forgotten, why is he here, he must be here for a reason but what is it, he must get out, he must _get out_!

Wait. He can feel something familiar, among this mess assailing him. Something very tiny, almost imperceptible. But what is it?

Let's start with the basics, then.

Golden eyes. He remembers golden eyes. Good start. Anything else?

A smile and a voice. A body against his.

He can see a little more clearly now. Details, now. He needs to be more specific.

Talking to snakes. Reading books. And, for some reason, wearing a knuckle-duster?!

_Morgan. _

"Morgan!" He calls.

All of a sudden, everything stops. No more disorienting noises and images. Just the silence. And the house.

He is standing right in front of a small house, with stone walls and a tile roof. Quite dull, to put it mildly.

Loki looks around. There is nothing else. The house is located in the exact middle of nowhere, surrounded by some kind of reddish fog, which he has absolutely no desire to approach. He opens the door, uncertain of what he is about to find.

The inside proves to be as uninteresting as the outside. The entrance walls are all white, with no decoration whatsoever. Next, a kitchen. Empty as well. Having to watch this menacing red smog through the windows is not the most reassuring perspective.

The next door leads to a dining room. And, with her back turned to him, sitting at the table...

"Morgan?" He speaks again, not daring to feel too relieved, as this could very well be another trap set up by the Witch.

She slowly turns around, arms crossed. Her gaze is cold. She seems distant, unphased, in short, definitely not surprised, almost _annoyed_, to see him.

"Oh, you're here too." She sighs "Great."

Her sarcastic tone is not really what Loki expected, and definitely not what he wants to hear at the moment.

"Yes, I'm here, and don't look too happy about it." He cannot help retorting.

Morgan shrugs and turns her back to him again, in a gesture that downright infuriates him.

"Look, aside from the fact that I've just gotten out of a psychic tornado, I'm starting to run out of patience." He warns "So, I suggest we don't dawdle any longer."

"Wow. So much for the knight in shiny armour." Morgan spits "You're sure you didn't fall on the wrong damsel in distress?"

"I'm starting to wonder." Loki winces.

What a pain in the neck.

Alright, it definitely is the real Morgan.

Before he or she has the time to add anything, the door of the kitchen opens again, on someone Loki has never seen before.

She is a little taller than Morgan, but not much, and of probably the same age. Her oval face is surrounded by long wavy blond hair.

"Hi!" She greets, all smiles, her blue eyes shining with surprise and enjoyment "Nice to finally meet you!"

"Uh..." Is, to Loki's dismay, the only answer he finds himself able to pronounce.

The woman leans with her back against the wall and warms her hand around the steaming cup she is holding.

"Wait, you didn't tell your boyfriend about me?" She asks Morgan, on a visibly upset tone.

_What in the Nine Realms is going on?!_

"No, because just like you, he isn't real." Morgan suddenly replies, no looking at either the woman or Loki.

_Oh. Great._

So, to Morgan, he is a part of her... nightmare, or whatever all of that is.

"Hey, you wanna see something cool?" The blond-haired woman winks at him, before walking to another door, at the other end of the dining room.

"Don't." Morgan immediately reacts.

This time, she is on the verge of panic, Loki can tell. No more disdainful nor sarcastic attitude. She has briskly straightened up, and is looking at him with a both anxious and hopeful face.

"Don't open this door." She reiterates "He's in there."

"I know, and he'll be thrilled to see you!" The woman smiles back, with her hand already on the handle.

Without saying a word, Loki strides towards her and slams his hand against the wooden door, to prevent her from opening it.

"She said no. Are you deaf?" He snarls.

"Nah, I'm just dead." The blond-haired one smirks "Right, Morgan?"

"Stop that." Loki hears her whispers, before she wraps her arms around himself, as if she was suddenly cold.

"I mean, you can't deny you did the job well with me! With Mom, that was a mess! And Dad, that's another level!" The other woman continues, visibly enjoying herself, and pointing at the door Loki still holds closed.

At least, he starts to understand what is going on.

"By the way, I didn't introduce myself, how rude of me." She adds "I'm Vivian, nice to meet you."

"Morgan." Loki calls, deliberately ignoring the illusion's feigned sympathy "All of this is the effect of the Scarlet Witch's powers. These visions are fuelled by your own memories."

She turns her eyes to him again, visibly unsure whether or not to trust him.

"Then, there's a lot more to see!" Vivian replies "Her sister, her mother and her father, that was just the first round, you know!"

"I don't care." He shrugs, walking towards Morgan and not even bothering to look at the illusion next to him.

"Don't come close to me." Morgan reacts, standing up and taking a few steps backwards when he approaches her.

"You think that I am not real?" He questions.

She does not answer, only stares at him. Knowing Morgan, she might be thinking at full speed when the _trap_ is going to occur. In other words, when he is going to _harm_ her.

This has gone on long enough.

All of a sudden, the god of Mischief seizes one of the wooden chairs arranged around the table and swings it right at one of the windows, which is smashed to pieces. Next, he kicks the wall open, literally.

This is so satisfying, for many reasons. It doesn't look like it, but there's a while he hasn't enjoyed some good old destruction, and he was starting to think he had lost his touch. Also, it feels like a well-earned revenge taken against pretty much everyone who has annoyed him (and the Norns know there are many) along the last couple of days. If he closes his eyes, he can even pretend that this is the Avengers compound. Yes, this is just _perfect_.

Loki knocks the glass table over and the sound it makes when it shatters on the floor appears to be another convincing argument for his presence to Morgan. She carefully walks towards him, shards of glass cracking under her shoes with each step she takes.

"Loki..." She mutters "Are you _real_?"

_Do not, ever, say yes or no. Do the unexpected. _

The god of Mischief sticks his tongue out, but he turns it into a very thin, black, bifid tongue.

"I guessssss I am." He hisses.

On Morgan's face immediately appear a mess of conflicting emotions, from the urge to burst out laughing to the one to burst out crying. Nothing he isn't familiar with, right?

She is in front of him now, in the middle of the half-destroyed dining room. Her sister Vivian, or at least the nightmarish illusion of what her sister Vivian could have been, is gone.

"I... I'm sorry, I... I was..." She frantically stammers.

"The last thing you need is to be sorry." Loki smiles.

Yet, in a move that takes him completely off-guard, Morgan throws herself into his arms. He hesitantly wraps himself around her and can feel that she is shivering.

"I should have... I should have resisted..." She whispers, her head against his chest, and her voice marked by shame.

"Good news, it's never too late to resist." He grins.

She raises her gaze towards him.

"How? How can we resist... this place?" Morgan questions.

Loki turns his gaze to the red fog surrounding the house, which is much easier to see now that he has carved a whole in the wall.

"I remember someone advising me, when trapped in a place I thought I could not resist, to play a little with the rules." He grins, before extending his hand towards her "Wanna try?"

And then, by the Nine Realms, her smile finally comes back.

"Game on." She approves, seizing his hand.

This might be the weirdest and yet most fantastic moment they share. Fair enough, there is nothing sweeter than to destroy a house standing in the middle of a psychic Hel.

He has to admit, Morgan really puts her heart and soul into it. She has grabbed a chair leg and is methodically smashing every window she sets her eyes on. Outside, the red smog seems to grow agitated, as if it was protesting against their sudden rebellion. Loki decides that it's a good sign.

Once Loki has pierced most of the walls, he wonders how he can make this house crumble, for good. Turns out Morgan has also had a similar idea.

"Do every Midgardian have all this in their houses?" He inquires, at the sight of the number of bottles now surrounding her on the kitchen floor (and Morgan is still taking more out of the cupboards).

"More or less." She acknowledges "Plus, I can imagine as many as I want, can't I?"

"Quite true." Loki nods, as he helps her pouring the liquids all over the house.

On the containers, he can read names such as acetone and wood polish wax, plus a staggering diversity of alcohol.

"Did you really use to live in this house?" He inquires, as he empties the last bottles around the entrance door.

Morgan is already waiting for him outside. She only cracks the match when he comes to stand next to her.

"I did. And, to be completely honest, I don't regret setting it on fire." She sighs.

The aforesaid fire is one of a kind. Whatever is left of the place is rapidly engulfed by the flames, and even though all of this cannot harm their physical bodies, though there is no way to be absolutely sure of that, Loki and Morgan take a few steps backwards, due to the heat they can feel.

"Loki?" Morgan whispers, still staring at her house being burned down "Thank you."

"For encouraging your pyromaniac tendencies?" He cannot help teasing.

"Partly." She laughs "No, I mean... Thank you, for... Not leaving."

He slowly breathes out. To know that he can be needed, even more, wanted, what a new and pleasant feeling. And yet, it pains him to hear how used Morgan was not to be wanted either. All her fears, which she might have partially overcome, violently surged back due to M's manipulations.

Oh right, he almost forgot.

"Talking about leaving, I think it would be a good idea not to take out time here, as interesting as the show may be."

To illustrate his statement, the roof of Morgan's house stumbles in a loud _craaaaaack_, doubling the intensity of the fire.

"Alright." Morgan breathes out, before turning around to face the red smoke "Any plan in mind?"

Loki says nothing, just shrugs, a wide smile on his face.

"The best way to go." Morgan approves.

The two of them simultaneously extend their hand towards the crimson cloud. The reaction is, as they expected, brutal.

An actual storm begins. The fog swirls around them, and here and there, Loki distinguishes bright red lightning. He can barely see Morgan next to him, and has to extend an arm in front of his eyes in order not to be blinded by the light.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?!" He yells, to be sure she can hear him.

"If you had a better one, why didn't you suggest it sooner?!" She shouts back, her arms also protecting her face.

"I never said I had a better one!"

He wonders if Morgan is actually laughing and hopes that it is the case. However, in front of them, emerges a silhouette he has come to know way too much.

Morgan, Loki and the Scarlet Witch appear to stand in the eye of the storm. So, what kind of epic showdown will it be?

"I won't let you go!" M roars, her eyes bright red "I won't let Wanda at the mercy of monsters like you!"

Red lightning start to crackle around her open hands. Bad. Very bad.

How can he even fight, Loki wonders, what can he do against such power?

"So, you would let her become a monster?!" Morgan replies "Is _that_ what you want?!"

Suddenly, the storm seems to calm down a little. The lightning becomes less frequent, the wind less violent, and the red light stops shimmering around M's hand.

"You want to kill us because we have harmed Wanda, right?" Morgan continues, comforted by this unexpected lull "But you harmed us just the same! It's not protecting her against monsters, it's turning her into one!"

As Morgan speaks, Loki can see someone else emerging from the red fog, right behind M. It is a taller figure, and it does not look like a normal Midgardian by any mean.

A bald man, with red skin, and on his forehead shines... _The Mind Stone?!_

"Wanda..." He speaks softly "If you do this... They will never stop being afraid of you."

"Vision?" Loki hears M say, choking out of surprise.

And, again, the settings change. Gone is the red storm, now the three of them are standing in the middle of a forest. The Wakandan forest, Loki remembers. The last place where the Avengers have tried, and failed, to make a last stand before Thanos gathered all the Infinity Stones.

The Witch has her back turned to them now. She is staring at the ground, unmoving. When Loki and Morgan lower their gaze, they can see the same person who has appeared behind the Witch, earlier on. However, his skin is not red anymore, just a murky grey. His eyes are lifeless, and his skull is completely destroyed, revealing a heap of disorganized wires.

"Do you think I'm a monster?" The Witch bluntly asks, without looking at them.

By the tone of her voice, Loki is almost sure that it is not M anymore, but Wanda Maximov.

"Depends." He decides to say "Do _you_ think you are a monster?"

She turns towards them, and her gaze, not bright red anymore, is telling.

"No one is a monster unless they decide to be one." Morgan explains "Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. So does he."

She has finished her sentence by pointing at Loki, who gives her a heavy look.

"What? You would have said the same." She innocently points out.

"True." He cannot help admitting.

"Can I give you just one tip?" Morgan asks Maximov again.

The latter says nothing and looks at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

"All these things about being a lone wanderer trying to deal with your pain on your own... That doesn't work. At all." Morgan sighs "Frankly, I don't know why there's so much hype around it."

"What do you know of my pain?" Maximov defies.

"Not much. Except that it hurts. A lot."

Maximov closes her eyes and breathes out, visibly trying not to shed a tear. Then, she looks at them again, with a half-smile growing on her face.

"Yes." She whispers "It does."

Without prior warning, Loki finds himself falling into what seems like an empty space of red light. The Scarlet Witch is nowhere to be seen anymore. Next to him, Morgan is screaming out of dread. At least, he is not the only one.

"Is that good news or bad news?!" She yells.

"Not a clue!" He manages to articulate.

But when they finally touch the ground, it is only the floor of their bedroom. It is still pitch-black night outside. The Avengers compound is still silent.

And, fortunately, when the two of them stand up, wincing and panting, Loki can see that it is still Morgan who is next to him.


	11. I want your word

**Thank you so much, Nayruh and CurtisMcQueen8, for your reviews! Phew, it's been a while I haven't updated that fast!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He does not exactly know what wakes him up, if it is the sunlight on his face, or the noise of the water running in the background. Or maybe it is this tempting smell, reminding him that his last meal is pretty far away.

In any case, when Loki resolves to open his eyes, he realizes that not only has he closed them a while ago, which means that he has _slept_, and by Hell, that is already a miracle in itself, but also that Morgan is nowhere to be seen.

He stares at the ceiling for some time, trying to get his thoughts in order. Needless to say, the latter task is far from being easy. The last thing he clearly remembers is the two of them having just gotten out of the Scarlet Witch's mind. It is odds on that such a strain on their own minds has made them fall asleep right away, regardless of what danger may still have been lurking in the background. However, given the intensity of the light that illuminates the bedroom, indicating that they must have been resting for hours, it is also a safe bet to assume that they face no immediate threat.

Loki takes a long inspiration. What can he be sure about? Not much. Is the Witch still an enemy? Maybe, maybe not. Are the Avengers still their allies? Maybe, maybe not. Are Morgan and him still seen as a hazard? May- you got the idea.

The soft sound of Morgan's footsteps pulls him out of his reflection (at least, what could optimistically be called a reflection) and he straightens on his elbows. He immediately notices that not only has she changed the bandage covering the wound on her skull, but has also cut her hair. Or is currently in the process of doing so. Her curls are still longer on one side of her face. She has her back turned to him, thus Loki can perfectly see that the only things she is wearing are her undergarments and that her skin is still wet on her back and neck, indicating that she has just gotten out of the shower. His gaze follows her across the room, a wide smile growing on his lips, as she has visibly not realized that his eyes have been open for a while.

"Not really found of these." He comments, after she has grabbed a pair of, what is the exact Midgardian denomination already, oh right, _jeans_.

Not as if she has a lot to choose from, though. Just like many temporary inhabitants of this compound, they have been provided with outfits that, unfortunately, do not all strictly correspond to their size, and especially not to their clothing fashion. Pity.

"Did I wake you up?" She questions, neglectingly dropping the trousers on the floor.

"I managed to do that on my own."

Morgan smiles back at him and, without further ado, swiftly jumps on the bed, preventing him from straightening up. Not that he really complains.

Loki carefully raises a hand to her head, where her wound is.

"How do you feel?" He inquires.

"Much better. Actually, I feel _great_!" She beams "I was looking forward to enjoying a few hours of sleep without any more bruises nor cuffs."

"Seems like a luxury, these days." Loki snarls.

"Tell me about it..." She huffs, before her eyes light up again "By the way, talking about luxury..."

Morgan leans towards him and captures his lips. The god of Mischief enjoys the contact of her skin against his, almost overwhelmed by her vitality. Then, he cannot help noticing how Morgan's kisses become more passionate, as she is leaning further on his chest.

"One is a morning person." He grins.

"I'm an all-day person." Morgan chuckles "What about you?"

To illustrate her statement, she slides her hand under the sheets, towards his crotch. Loki closes his eyes, trying to focus on the sensation of her warm hand, and nothing else, rather than...

Rather than everything else.

He bites his lip, wondering why exactly he cannot feel at ease, why he cannot simply... Just let go, for a moment.

He cannot. Everything, all these nightmares and apprehension and anxiety, is still so close, he cannot let go.

He hesitantly seizes Morgan's wrist to stop her gesture and opens his eyes again, though not staring at her directly.

"Sorry..." Loki whispers "I..."

_I_ what?! He doesn't even know what to add. How, just how, does he so quickly and so perfectly manage to ridicule himself?

Morgan immediately straightens up.

"Alright." She nods "Later, then?"

She does not appear offended the slightest, which leaves Loki quite surprised. On Asgard, not being eager to please a woman, no matter when, nor where, nor which woman, was, and still is, considered as the embodiment of unmanliness.

Sure, he knows and trusts Morgan well enough by now to tell her when he wants and does not want her, but still, he cannot help being surprised by how little she cares about such conventions.

"And _I_ am sorry..." She adds "Jumping on you without prior warning, that wasn't very... sportsman-like."

There is one thing Loki cannot deny, Morgan's directness is one of a kind.

His refusal truly does not seem to bother her. She does not interpret it as a sign of disdain nor of frailty. She does not interpret it _at all_, period.

His uneasiness rapidly fades away. And, because Loki is Loki and because Morgan is Morgan, he simply cannot resist teasing her a little, by bringing his mouth closer to her ear.

"Trust me, I will repay my debt in time." He promises, a mischievous smile on his lips, before adding the final blow "On my knees."

The god of Mischief mentally congratulates himself at the sight of Morgan's face, torn between frustration and anticipation. And, obviously, her answer does not disappoint either.

"Then, do you need the bathroom right now? Because I have an urgent matter to _take in hand_."

"Poetic." Loki mocks.

"Look who's talking."

She jumps off the bed and, for lack of anything better, picks up the pair of jeans she was examining earlier on, then enters the bathroom again. Loki decides to imitate her, putting on some black trousers and another white shirt. As he rummages in the wardrobe, his eyes fall once again on one of the garments which has been provided to him and undeniably is out of place compared of the other articles of clothing, a T_-_shirt of Midgardian fabric, obviously, on which the expression _Rock of Ages_ is written, in a more than questionable calligraphy. He strongly suspects it to be one of Stark's umpteenth allusions, but he is uncapable of remembering where it comes from.

Morgan's muffled exclamation of annoyance makes him turn his head towards the bathroom, which door has been left open. From where he stands, he can see her leaning against the sink, in order to get her head as close as possible to the mirror, to get a better look at the curls she is finishing to cut.

"Do you need a hand, on second thoughts?" He taunts, advancing towards her.

She does not immediately answer, focused as she is on her gestures, which appear to be considerably slowed down by the gauze covering half of her skull.

"I might..." She sighs "Usually, I'm good at playing hairstylist with myself, but here, _that_ does not make things easy..."

Loki touches _that_ -the bandage- with precaution, now standing behind her.

"If you feel better, I could help you get rid of it, permanently."

"Well, this offer..." Morgan begins, putting down the scissors she was using and turning around to face him "... is too good to pass up."

The god of Mischief, all the more comforted by her eagerness, places his right hand on her forehead.

"Wait, wait!" Morgan suddenly exclaims "Is that the thing you do when you make me less able to feel pain? Some kind of local anaesthetic?"

"You could put it that way." Loki admits.

"Can you heal my wound without it?"

"Of course." He assures "But it will probably be very unpleasant for you..."

Morgan frowns, visibly undecided, and Loki slowly withdraws his hand from her head.

"As you can see... I've had my fair share of bruises, both outside and inside my head... And elsewhere." She explains, lowering her eyes to her chest, where a large, impressively colourful mark is flourishing, consequence of the rubber bullet she has been shot with "And I just... I know it's stupid, but I just want a break from all those things that blur my mind and my senses, human drugs and alien spells all the same, even if they're supposed to dull the pain. I want to be... in control, even though I'm not."

Loki nods, absent-mindedly. How well he understands...

"I can't help being amazed at your resistance." She continues "Look at your face! It seems so natural to you, but I could never even dream of seeing a black eye completely disappear overnight!"

Oh, right. He has...

"I bet you even have forgotten about that." Morgan giggles "You're able to go through things that would leave me dead, or half-dead in the best-case scenario, without a scratch. I may be as selfish as I am foolish, but no matter how painful it is, I just want to feel... less weak, at least once."

Loki does not know what to say. Is he actually supposed to say something?

He cannot help being amazed at how exactly Morgan mirrors his own resentment towards _her_. He feels so powerless when compared to her mental strength, her adaptability, her resilience.

_Because she speaks_, Loki thinks, and this realization strikes him like lightning.

Sure, both of them can be smooth-talkers of a yet unmatched level, but Morgan has this additional intensity that baffles him.

She knows how to speak. More than that, she is not afraid to speak, at all. She openly admits that she is in pain, that she feels helpless, therefore that she needs help. Morgan speaks when Loki remains silent and, as a result, lets his anger build up inside him until it reaches imminent explosion.

"You are far from being weak." He tonelessly laughs "The same way I am... far from being resistant."

The longing comes to tell her, because he wants to be in control indeed, and yet it is so difficult. The contradictory impulses urging him both to _tell her_ and to _be quiet_ are burning his throat and numbing his thoughts.

Loki feels the exact same way than in front of Thor the night before. He wants to speak and he cannot speak.

He _wants_ to speak. No, more than that. It has become a physical need, something he has to do in order to _survive_.

"I could not resist..." He begins "... During the battle... Against Thanos, I..."

He _must not_ speak. What is he doing?! What is he thinking?! Morgan, what will she think?! How will she look at him?! With fear? Contempt?

She is not saying anything, just nervously looking at him struggling to get the words out of his mouth.

What will she say? What will she do? He must not tell her!

And yet, isn't she on his side? Doesn't she trust him? Doesn't he trust her? If she can speak, why can't he?

"I was..." He painstakingly pursues "He used the power of the Reality Stone to..."

He cannot. He cannot say it. An absurd thought comes to him, wiping out Morgan's memory of the last five minutes, so that she can never know, never have a clue, never remember him like this.

Could he do that to her? Would it not be the supreme symbol of disrespect, after she has just revealed how helpless she feels due to the number of assaults her mind has already undergone?

But the fact is, he cannot speak. Why, how, is he _uncapable_ of doing something as _simple_ as...

"Loki..." Morgan's voice interrupts him "What happened to you?"

Can't he speak? Can't he, for once...

The sentence abruptly comes back to his mind. It is something they have always repeated, since they first met. Something they kept saying and kept proving.

_Words are power._

What he can, and will always, control, are his own words. If he speaks, he is powerful.

"Thanos used the Reality Stone to scar me." He finally manages to let out "Permanently."

As he says so, he shows. Loki lifts his hand to his mouth to dissipate the illusion he has been maintaining for days and nights, and reveals the nine small marks around his lips, which he can very well discern in the mirror in front of him.

His reflection screams at him how disfigured he looks, how powerless he feels, how humiliating the mere memory of suddenly finding himself with _his lips sewn shut_ is.

Morgan immediately gasps, her eyes tainted by horror, and blocks her mouth with one hand, the other clenching the bathroom sink in order to stabilize herself. She has guessed, of course, what these scars imply.

What has he done?! He should never have spoken, maybe there is still time, maybe he can make her forget, maybe he can make _himself_ forget, why did he speak, by Hell, _why did he speak_?!

"Does it... still hurt?" Morgan mutters, her voice muffled by the hand she keeps pressing on her mouth.

Given the look on her face, she looks like she is imagining his pain, no, even more, that she is feeling it.

"Not anymore." Loki whispers, his own voice sounding unnatural to his ears.

She withdraws her hand from her face, then, in a move that Loki clearly did not expect, she lets her head fall against his chest, clinging to his shirt. Her shoulders start to shake, indicating that she is half-laughing, half-crying.

"I'm so glad..." She articulates "I'm so glad we killed that purple fucker!"

Loki lets out the breath he has been containing for he does-not-know-how-long-anymore. Both tears and laughter come to him at the same time.

No fear (past the initial shock). No contempt, far from it. But pain, at what he has gone through, and relief, to know that it is over.

Next, however, she briskly straightens up, and, for some reason, climbs on the bathroom sink. Loki finds himself with both tears running from his eyes and a smile of on his lips at the sight of Morgan uneasily standing above him, her arms slightly open to stabilize herself, with her jeans but no shirt on.

"Uh... Can I help you?" He queries.

"Yeah." She pants, putting both her hands on his shoulders, to stabilize herself "For once, I'm the taller one, what do you say about that, mh?"

And she leans forward to kiss him. He kisses her back, hugging her against him. She is on his side.

_Words are power. _

Once their embrace is over, Morgan stands up. And, well, she does stand up a little too quickly, without apparently remembering that her head is now much closer than usual to the top of the room.

"Carefu-" Loki tries to warn, in vain.

"Ouch!" She exclaims, a second later, both her hands on her skull "Blasted... ceiling!"

The god of Mischief cannot help laughing at her piteous face, as she quickly gets down. At least she did not hurt the side where her wound is.

"Can you play sexy nurse on me now?" She requests, still wincing.

Loki nods, his palms already radiating with soft green light.

"As you already know, it will be painful." He cautions "But it will not take long."

"Got it." Morgan accepts, before raising her hand to interrupt him "Hey, you know what?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"No."

"Well, in case you're interested..." Morgan rolls her eyes "Your scars are much less visible when you smile."

Even with these scars on his face, she likes to look at him...

"Ready?" He asks.

"Hold on!" She stops him again "I forgot something!"

Loki huffs. Cannot she stay still for a minute?!

Morgan rushes into the bedroom and comes back a handful of seconds later, looking for something on her phone.

"Do not tell me you're going to put..."

"Music, abso-damn-lutly." Morgan proudly declares "Everything hurts much less with a nice background."

The god of Mischief shrugs out of astonishment. Is she insane? Yes. Does he like it?

By the Nine Realms, of course he does.

_Had to have high, high hopes for a living_

_Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing_

_Didn't have a dime but I always had a vision..._

True, it very much looks like the type of music Morgan appreciates. Since she is (finally!) standing still in front of him, Loki carefully withdraws the bandage covering her skull. He can now see the wound. The blood has coagulated, but it remains impressive by how large it is. He looks at Morgan again. She briefly nods, and he presses his hand, surrounded by a green glow, against it.

Her features immediately tense, and she clenches the sink with all her strength, as she forces herself not to move. Loki can feel the tissue regenerating at fascinating speed under his palm. The good thing with her much lower physical resistance is that healing her is at least ten times faster and easier than healing any given Asgardian.

Also, she is right, music makes it more bearable. Morgan keeps staring at him, her lips tightly shut. Her breath is jolty, yet her gaze is marked by both discomfort and relief, as she can probably feel the lesion getting smaller and smaller.

When the cut is finally closed, the only reminders of any head injury are the tiny droplets of dry blood entangled in her hair. As Loki's green light starts to fade, Morgan loudly breathes out, then looks at him with a victorious smile.

"Thank you." She murmurs.

"You are strong." The god of Mischief asserts, his voice expressing nothing but admiration.

"And you..." Morgan pants "... are powerful."

She picks up her phone, then exits the bathroom, to fall face down on the bed. Which immediately draws another exclamation of displeasure.

"If you tell me..." Loki begins entering the bedroom as well "... that you managed to hurt yourself on a _mattress_, then I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do anymore."

"Even better..." Morgan giggles "I just forgot that I also had to deal with this colourful kaleidoscope on my chest and... I fell right on it."

She painstakingly turns around, to lay on her back. Granted, her bruises are not minor ones. From what Loki has heard, some of her ribs are cracked. Which makes him wonder, where does she draw all this energy from?!

"Well, while we are at it...?" Loki suggests, his hand once again surrounded by the aura his magic creates.

"Uh... Not going to lie, the first round was already strenuous enough... Perhaps later?"

"As you wish." He complies.

Morgan does not move much, still laying on the bed, her hands crossed behind her neck. She slowly is caressing her head, where the injury was, apparently amazed at how it returned to normal.

"Is this ceiling so fascinating?" Loki questions, since she does not take her eyes of it.

"You have no idea." She smirks "I'm sure staring at it will help me get enough motivation to leave this room and face the Avengers, probably all aware that I was having the time of my life on morphine last night. It's all fuzzy to me, but I remember mentioning a salmon and avocado bagel, somewhere."

"If it reassures you, you were very concise: without, what is it, _cream cheese_, it has no reason to exist." Loki mercilessly reminds.

"Mh. At least, I kept some rationality." She laconically notes.

"Romanov did not expect the kiss, though."

"_What_?!"

"I have to say, no one did." He grins "But I slightly suspect she has enjoyed it."

"How am I... Master of Mischief, I _almost_ believed you!" Morgan exclaims, having obviously noticed how hard it is for Loki to contain his laughter.

"To be honest, I did not think their opinion would affect you." He points out.

"And you are right. I still don't care that much. What I care much more about is one specific Avenger. You know, the one who almost killed me, almost killed you, and forcefully entered both our minds. These things happen, once in a while."

Loki breathes out heavily and sits next to Morgan. After consideration, he lays down on the bed in the same fashion, his hands crossed behind his head.

"Fascinating ceiling indeed." He comments.

"I know, right?" Morgan sneers "Go ahead, ask me."

"Ask you what?" Loki replies, in what is clearly one of his worse attempts at sounding innocent, ever.

"The question you've had in mind for I-don't-know-how-long!" She glares, visibly annoyed by his game.

"Very well. How did you repel the Scarlet Witch's power?"

Not that he wants an answer here and now. But he has to admit, he... Alright, he does want an answer here and now.

As for Morgan, she closes her eyes and pinches her eyebrow arch, not hiding her reluctance to answer his inquiry.

"It's... so complicated..." She sighs.

"I hope so, otherwise the question would not need to be asked."

Morgan straightens up in a sitting position, taking her time to choose her words.

"We both know that the six Infinity Stones are related. They are not as distinct as their names suggest." She begins "I mean, the _Reality_ Stone?! Reality as we understand it involves basically all the five other Stones!"

"You're digressing." Loki signals.

"A bad habit of mine. My point is, the Stones have a much more nuanced meaning than the one we gave them. Mind and Soul, most of all. They are... very closely related. I can't even say what the soul exactly is!"

Loki remains silent. To sum it up, Morgan is more able to use her powers than to define them.

"To me, at least from what I've learnt, Soul is like... an _impetus_." Morgan elaborates "A primary instinct, engraved in every living being's DNA. All existing emotions, from happiness to anger, serve this primary instinct: to stay alive."

"In short, what you are able to do is to tap into this primary instinct." Loki recapitulates "You do not manipulate thoughts, but impulses."

"Exactly. The Scarlet Witch created nightmares in order to make us afraid. But I directly sparked fear into her brain."

"Her brain?" Loki frowns, sitting up to face her.

"I am only making assumptions here." Morgan warns "I've done some research, and what I may interact is the limbic system. The thalamus, the hypothalamus, the amygdala, the hippocampus, the pituitary gland, all that stuff. This area of the brain is connected to how emotions are managed, in order to protect the entire body."

"So... When you say that Mind and Soul are closely related, do you insinuate that both you and the Witch interact with the same area of brain?"

"This hypothesis seems to make sense, even though of course, it should be taken with a pinch of salt." Morgan shrugs "If Soul is an impetus, I would define Mind as a _reflection_. The mind, at least the definition I have of the mind, is related to meaning. It is like... the prolongation of the soul. If all beings have this primary instinct, to live at any cost, some have developed thoughts about why this instinct exists in the first place."

"I did not expect we would come to mention existential crisis so soon." Loki notes.

"We've been dealing with that since... Since we met, basically."

"Right. Now that you mention it."

"The thing is, from what I've heard... Wanda Maximov had to shatter the Mind Stone, to prevent Thanos from acquiring it." Morgan recalls "Not only did it kill the person she loved the most, but, in a way, she also shattered a part of herself. Hence this personality disorder. But as I said, I have no way to find out."

"Would you have been able to destroy the Soul Stone?" Loki cannot help asking.

"No."

Loud and clear. Morgan has not hesitated even one second.

"As long as I'm not able to kill myself, I won't be able to destroy the Soul Stone." She calmly explains "It would be like... doing _this_."

The gesture she makes is explicit. Morgan puts both hands on the left side of her chest, where her heart is, then extends her arms, as if she was ripping her own skin apart.

It turns out she has answered another of Loki's questions.

"Because the Stone was there." He guesses.

Morgan slowly raises her head towards him, not saying anything, which is the equivalent of a reluctant yes.

"When I wielded the Space Stone, after we destroyed the Gauntlet, I was holding it. You wielded the Soul Stone, yet it was nowhere to be seen. You literally hid it _in your own heart_."

"I did." Morgan sternly confirms "The irony is, I only realized it once the fight was over. The power the Stone was diffusing was so overwhelming, I had to think of it not only as a jewel without which I could still live, but a vital part of as myself."

Loki closes his right fist, not eager to let memories of their fight against Thanos submerge him again. Yet, he cannot help thinking that, in order to retrieve the Soul Stone, the Mad Titan would have had to rip Morgan's heart off. Which, evidently, he would have done, and very probably enjoyed.

A very uncomfortable shiver runs down his back.

"Loki." She speaks again "What I have just told you, I have never told anyone, and I never intend to. My body _has_ kept traces of the Soul Stone, of that I am sure. If the Avengers hear about it, oh they may have the best intentions in the world, _of course_ they do, but they would never let me go."

"Let them try." He hisses.

"I want your word, that unless I ask you to, you will never speak of this."

The god of Mischief turns an imaginary key near his mouth then throws it away.

"Your word, Prince of Sassgard." Morgan insists.

"You have it." He vows, raising his eyebrow at this unexpected nickname.

"Perfect." She smiles "Now, I guess it's time."

"For?"

"Breakfast. Well, lunch." Morgan eagerly reminds, quickly grabbing a shirt, and Loki realizes that the smell of food is indeed more intense than when he woke up, which is enough to persuade him.

"Take a seat close to the window, just in case either Banner or Romanov has cooked anything." He cannot help recommending, while putting his shoes on.

"Come on, give them a chan- alright, what does she want?" Morgan exclaims.

"Who?" Loki questions, but Morgan is already walking towards the door of the bedroom, which she opens just in time for him to catch sight of Valkyrie, her left fist raised in mid-air, indicating that she was about to knock.

"Greetings, Mighty Valkyrie." Morgan welcomes.

"Hi." The warrior replies, with a little wince of disbelief "Still on drugs?"

"Always."

"We guessed as much." Valkyrie sighs.

"A message to convey?" Loki queries, well aware that she has been sent by the Avengers (rather, the Avengers through Thor), and that she is not exactly pleased by this duty.

"Yeah." Valkyrie grins, staring at him with her arms crossed "Everyone kind of wants to see you. Like, now."

"And what happened that they think we have something to do with though we surely don't?" Morgan interrogates.

"Their friend, the Scarlet Witch. She's gone." Valkyrie huffs "Any clue where she might be?"


	12. They can call me their saviour

**Hi everyone! So, here it is, the last chapter of a story I very stupidly thought I could wrap it up in 5 chapters max! Special thanks to CurtisMcQueen8 and Nayruh, always pointing out what's good and what could be improved, I feel privileged that you took this time to help me!**

**See you at the end of the chapter for the final comments!**

* * *

Loki has barely set foot into the vast dining room of the compound, with Morgan next to him and Valkyrie following on his heels (he may not be on Asgard but he is still the Prince, and any reminder of his status is never a bad idea), that the first voice greeting him belongs, of course, to the inexhaustible racoon.

"I hope you got some rest, 'cause they're a bit on edge." Rocket warns, ostensibly designating the small group of Avengers nearby, which consists of the Widow, the Captain, and this umpteenth metal-armed person (true that there starts to be plenty of them around), Buchanan Barnes.

As well as, a little further away from them, with his back leaned against the wall, Sam Wilson.

Loki flashes his best hypocritical smile at him. The man simply huffs and looks away, his gaze marked by contempt. His right arm is surrounded by a thick bandage, which Loki cannot really say he is sorry for.

"I guess you already know what happened." Mister America starts, addressing both him and Morgan.

Valkyrie, who visibly assumes she has done her fair share of the work, casually walks towards the kitchen counter, around which the Guardians of the Galaxy, except for Nebula, are already gathered, and starts to rummage in one of the numerous paper bags placed there. Once she has found what she was looking for, which turns out to be a more than generously filled sandwich, she goes to sit between Groot and Drax, fairly uninterested by what the Avengers have to say.

"Wanda Maximov cleared off." Morgan sums up, settling on, as usual, the edge of a sofa "But I find it a little hard to see why we would know where she plans to go, since she has tried to kill us both. Twice."

"Yeah, because you _totally_ didn't ask for it." Wilson spits.

"Sam. Please, we talked about this." Rogers tries to temper "You've seen with your own eyes that Wanda is not herself."

The man does not reply, only straightens up against the wall, his face now marked by concern.

At least, he is not stubborn enough to deny what he has witnessed, Loki observes, since he had a ringside seat to contemplate the Witch's _explosive_, that is a beautiful euphemism, personality disorder. The Avengers may still be reluctant to listen to Morgan and Loki, but they will evidently be much less distrustful when the warning comes from one of their companions.

Also, it seems very unlikely that Stark has kept the entire story to himself. Stark, whom, like Thor, Banner, as well as Barton, is still missing. Not surprising for Thor, he always spends half of his day with the Asgardians still hosted in Wakanda. The question is, will he manage to keep things moving for them... At least, the racoon and his friends are here, which is a decent guarantee that the atmosphere will not get _too_ tensed.

"Wanda is becoming dangerous." Rogers admits "For herself, as much as for other people. We have no idea where she currently is, and we haven't been able to track her down."

"But you can." Romanov continues, turning to Morgan "I'd be lying if I said I understood your powers completely, but there's one thing I'm sure about, you're able to... _pay a psychic visit_ to anyone you've personally encountered."

"That's a nice way to put it." Morgan smiles.

"Can you help us finding her?" The Widow demands "I know that's... ironic, after what she did to you. But we're running out of options here. If Wanda loses control again... well, you're one of the few who are actually able to stop her."

Morgan stares at Romanov with a mix of incredulity and suspicion. She surely did not expect the Widow to so bluntly concede how powerless they all are in this situation.

It is exceptional enough to be noted, given the look on Morgan's face, that she actually seems willing to _help_ the Avengers. Though her answer does not meet their expectations.

"No." She simply says.

"We are not asking you to fight her." Rogers rectifies "We just need..."

"I understood what you need." Morgan tranquilly nods "The problem is, I don't really want to do it."

She immediately raises both her hands in front of her, as both the Captain and the Widow are about to protest.

"Before you point out how ungrateful I am, let me explain: The Scarlet Witch's powers are not the same as mine, but they are not completely different either. Since we already faced each other, she already knows my... _signature_, if you wish. There is a _very high_ risk that she will notice me looking for her, and that it might only worsen her mental state."

Rogers seems about to add something else, however it is his companion Barnes who speaks first:

"How high is the risk?"

Morgan stays silent for a moment, resting her chin on her right hand.

"I would say, eighty percent." She reveals.

"Are you _sure_?" Rogers insists, visibly not ready to accept her refusal so easily.

"No, I am _not_ sure." Morgan dryly replies "But I've had some _striking_ occasions to notice how strong Wanda Maximov is, and I do not wish to try my luck so many times that I end up sure, but dead."

A light of resentment briefly shines in the Captain's eyes, but he does not persist any longer. Instead, which is even more astonishing, he turns to him.

"Is there anything you can do?" He inquires.

Funny, Loki thinks, how they were all in agreement to throw him into a cage a handful of hours earlier, and now that one of their friends has decided to take a walk they know not where, they are almost on their knees begging him to help them.

Normally, he would not miss such an occasion to laugh at them. But he has had enough of so many fights, as much as them.

"I am afraid I am not able to bring the Witch to her senses." He calmly declares.

Neither Rogers nor Romanov dares to add anything else. A wave of uncomfortable silence washes over them.

Not that Loki is especially concerned about the Witch. To be honest, he is quite content with this situation. Without actually wishing her harm, he is not exactly eager to see her again.

"Come on, she can't move at supersonic speed, right?" Peter Quill intervenes, in an effort to brighten the mood "So, she can't be _that_ far..."

"Zero sign whatsoever." Stark cuts, probably to make sure that everyone is seeing and hearing him enter the room "We've checked everything that looks like an emergency call describing something as distant as red fireworks."

The man is followed by his friend Banner, as well as his partner Pepper Potts (which made Loki truly wonder how she could _not_ be offended at the mere mention of her seasoning of a name).

"Wherever Wanda is going, she seems determined to remain under the radar." She sums up "The good news is, it doesn't look like she's going to threaten anyone at random. The bad news is..."

"... We don't know how long it will take before she snaps again." Stark finishes.

"Have you been able to..." Banner starts to address Morgan, before his eyes widen with astonishment "Your... Your injury...?"

She points Loki out, a lopsided grin on her face, and he cannot refrain his enjoyment at the sight of both Morgan's proud face and Banner's confused look.

"Of course..." The scientist nervously smiles.

Odd, this contrast between how impressed Banner clearly is every time Loki displays his magic, from his telekinetic abilities to his healing powers, and how reluctant he seems to ask him any question about it. Stark, for that matter, does not have such self-restraint.

"Slept well, Claudius?" The engineer asks, apparently talking to him, which makes Loki briefly consider turning him into a parrot, since he is so found of repeating labyrinthine nicknames "If you haven't had lunch yet, you'd better try the pastrami before your brother comes back."

Since he has explicitly eyed the paper bags on the kitchen counter and, another supporting evidence, Morgan is heading for them as well, Loki can at least conclude that whatever pastrami is, it must be edible.

Also, Stark has a point, it is in the interests of every single person in this room to have some food _before_ the ravenous god of Thunder gets his hands on it. One of the numerous life-saving rules of thumb the god of Mischief had to grow up with.

On that note, both Loki and Morgan join the Guardians around the kitchen counter, while the remaining Avengers lower their voice to continue talking about the Witch and whatnot.

"Basically, this Wanda Maximov, she blew a fuse, tried to kill you two, then took off. Am I right so far?" Rocket interrogates.

"Pretty much." Morgan shrugs, essentially focused on the sandwich she just bit into, filled with what looks like smoked fish.

Loki opts for one containing salted meat, which he does not regret. Only when he starts eating does he realize how hungry he was.

"So, do we kinda need to get ready for an _I'm gonna take my revenge on all of you_ comeback style?" The racoon continues.

Before Morgan can open her mouth to reply, Valkyrie raises her hand in front of her, indicating that she is about to say something which is, in her opinion, much more important. Morgan stares at her with what strongly seems to be an intense urge to laugh, as the Asgardian elite warrior finishes to chew the food she still has in her mouth.

"Little warning for you here." Valkyrie finally speaks, looking daggers at Morgan "If I ever see the _slightest_ change of colour in your eyes, a punch in the face is probably the last thing you're going to remember for a very long time."

The reasons why Loki does not make any comment is that, first, he does not talk with his mouth full, and second, Morgan has just fetched a pair of sunglasses from the interior pocket of her jacket, and put them on.

"Is that better?" She asks Valkyrie, literally exuding sarcasm, as Quill and Rocket have already buried their face in their (respectively) hands and paws, their shoulders shaking with nervous laughter.

"Guess I'll just drink to forget..." The other woman sighs.

"Come on, was it _that annoying_?" Morgan inquires, raising her sunglasses on top of her head "I mean, seriously, I just made all of you have even more fun than you already had! And you clearly didn't need me for that."

"I am Groot." The young talking tree points out.

"Yeah, but music isn't really the point here..." Rocket corrects.

"Still, would've been nice to just _tell_ us." Quill winces, though he certainly does not appear as upset as Valkyrie is.

"This is fascinating!" Mantis exclaims, her wide eyes sparkling with enthusiasm "Your abilities, they are both so different and so similar to mine!"

"Uh... I suppose..." Morgan evasively smiles.

"But there's one thing I don't get." Valkyrie intervenes once again "You've managed to hit Thanos pretty bad, with your... psychic... stuff... And then, there's this... I mean, I know she's strong and all, but this Scarlet Witch, is she really _more powerful_ than, come on, the _Mad Titan_?!"

"It is not exactly a matter of physical or intellectual power." Morgan corrects.

"Empaths deal with emotions, not strength." Mantis adds.

"But you said yourself that Thanos _was_ strong, when you tried to immobilize him." Drax reminds her.

"It's a different _kind_ of strength!" The girl protests, visibly not knowing how to exactly describe it.

"So far, two types of people make it more difficult for me to influence them." Morgan reveals, before leaning a little further towards the Guardians and lowering her voice, in order not to be heard by the Avengers discussing a few steps away "Alright, game on: who in this room do you think was the toughest for me to control?"

"Seriously?" Valkyrie huffs, though not hiding her curiosity so well.

"Seriously." Morgan solemnly nods "Place your bets."

"I'd say, obviously, me." Rocket grins.

"Yeah, right." Quill snarls.

"I am Groot."

"He means me." Rocket translates.

"You mean, you?" Morgan questions, confused.

"No, he means him." Loki specifies, only too happy to play along.

"Which one?!" Morgan exclaims, which turns out to be a little louder than intended, because the following silence indicates that the Avengers are all staring at them.

"Don't worry, she's fine." Quill informs them, which leads to a collective sigh from the Earth Mightiest Heroes.

"I bet on Thor." Drax tries, a few seconds later.

"He's not in the room." Quill reminds.

"So, what?"

"Well, she said..."

"Doesn't matter." Morgan laconically accepts.

Both Valkyrie and Quill shrug, indicating both how clueless they are and how eagerly they expect Morgan's answer.

"Anyone in mind?" She then asks Mantis.

"Him!" The latter asserts, pointing _him_ out.

Loki cannot hide a somehow satisfied smile. Then, Morgan turns to him, with an equally mischievous face.

"Well, well..." She smirks "Any guess?"

"Mmh... I would say Banner." He supposes.

"Oh yeah right, because he can turn into this green giant!" Quill remembers "I vote for that one too."

"One day, maybe you'll learn to think for yourself." Rocket mocks.

"So, tell us!" Valkyrie urges "Who here was the most resistant to your powers?"

"And the winner is..." Morgan beams, delighted at her audience's expecting looks "Natasha Romanov!"

"Uh... Say what..." Rocket frowns, having visibly expected everything but this.

Say what, indeed. How can, of all people, the _Widow_ be more...?

"Depends on the timing, of course." Morgan specifies "I take into account the fact that I met each and every one of you not so long ago, which makes it easier to exert some control, because you don't really _know_ me. So, this god next to me, he's disqualified."

Loki rolls his eyes. Reassuring, in a way.

"I don't know if we should feel insulted." Valkyrie thinks out loud.

"Of course not!" Morgan reacts "On the contrary, the more knowledge you gain, the more resistant you become. And that's kind of what's happening with the first type of people who make it hard for me to influence them. Romanov has a more balanced emotional state, if you wish. She does not let herself be submerged by her feelings, or at least, she tries her best not to. Same thing for Thanos, at least until we managed to piss him off well enough."

She ends her sentence with a sidelong glance at Loki.

"What about the second type?" The god of Mischief inquires, though he starts to have a pretty good idea of what the answer will be.

"It's a little harder to explains..." Morgan admits "If some people can manage to detach themselves from their feelings, though still acknowledging how they feel, some others... shut themselves out completely."

"Creepy." Rocket comments.

"Is that possible?" Mantis questions "To detach yourself completely from your emotions? I mean, if you're still you, there's a part of you which you can't really let go, right?"

"Right..." Morgan slowly repeats, which is a sign that she is thinking at full speed "Actually, _very_ right... I may have something to tell Romanov, after all."

"What do you mean?" Loki frowns.

"I mean that they won't go very far to find Maximov if they stay focused on her powers."

Her answer does not help the god of Mischief getting further ahead, however, he has no time to ask more questions. First, because Morgan immediately walks away, second, because Thor makes an entrance as loud as the thunder which, conveniently, he is the god of.

"Brother! My friends!" He shouts, almost taking the door off its hinges when he flings it open "I have great news!"

"Okay, I'm gonna pick up my eardrums now." Rocket sighs.

"Really?" Stark raises his head "That's good, because we're cruelly lacking anything labelled as _great_ here, so maybe that could be of help."

"Asgard is moving to Tonsberg!" Thor proudly announces "It is decided, our people finally have a place to settle in!"

Loki surely is the only one who is _not_ disappointed upon hearing his brother's declaration. Though Banner, Rogers and Barnes seem to do their best to hide their deception, both Wilson, Stark and his partner Potts let out a small sigh of discouragement. As for Romanov, she is gone. Same for Morgan, obviously. Where to, Loki has no idea.

"That's... great, indeed." Banner uneasily smiles.

"You're moving there... permanently?" Rogers queries.

"We'll start the transfer from Wakanda to Norway tomorrow." The god of Thunder confirms, before walking towards Loki "You're coming, right?"

Is it just him, or has the god of Mischief perceived a hint of worry in his brother's voice?

"As I've always said, Asgard will be doomed if I leave you alone as its king." He grins.

Valkyrie snickers but Thor's smile could not be more sincere. He is relieved, Loki understands, he is truly relieved to see that they will not part once again. Maybe this is one thing he can do _right_, for a change.

He would better not mess it up.

"Well... Congrats, I guess!" Stark compliments, patting Thor's shoulder "It's about to get lonely here... Has Clint left already? He was supposed to get back home today, right?"

"Yeah..." Rogers confirms "Though he still hasn't heard about Wanda..."

"What's the matter with Wanda now?" Thor questions, having evidently noticed how little his companions shared his enjoyment.

"Oh, nothing important, really. She's just gone, and we don't know where." Stark bitterly sneers.

"D'you know when she'll come back?" Thor continues, his mouth already half-full with his second, maybe third, sandwich.

"Nope." Stark sardonically smiles, being visibly done with everything and everyone (especially one specific everyone who also happens to be the current king of Asgard).

"Come on, she isn't gone for ever!" Banner suggests, though his voice lacks conviction "What makes you think she won't come back?"

"What makes you think she will..." Wilson sighs.

"We really don't have any way to track her down?" Pepper Potts insists.

"What are our options?" Stark huffs "Ask Strange, the New Age wizard?"

No.

"I guess at least, it can't get any worse." Banner assumes.

The Norns must be in an especially cynical mood as, two seconds later, not only Morgan but also Romanov and, more surprisingly, Barton, hurriedly enter the room and slam the door behind them.

"How come you _completely_ forgot about them?!" The archer asks Romanov.

"I don't know, I _may_ have had other things to think about." The Widow replies.

"I didn't imagine there would be so _many_ of them." Morgan thinks out loud.

"Hey! What are you talking about?" Stark exclaims.

"The around a hundred of journalists who are getting out of their cars for the upcoming press conference about what happened to the entire world, I guess." Morgan explains.

Loki can almost _hear_ the collective shiver of realization down the back of everyone in the room.

"That's bad news, right?" Drax asks.

"Oh, fuck..." Captain America sighs.

* * *

"So, New Asgard?" Morgan asks.

"New Asgard." Loki acquiesces.

"In Norway."

"Apparently."

"And your brother is convinced there will be no problem _at all_ with that?"

"Either he is stupid, either he lives in denial. In my opinion, it's a combination of both." Loki smirks.

The weather is the exact opposite of the day before. Hot, a bright blue sky, with no cloud in the horizon. Loki has to admit, from the roof of the compound, the view is quite pleasant.

The least the god of Mischief can say is that Morgan and him were _not_ encouraged to join the Avengers in front of the cameras. For a fairly obvious reason. Yet, although Loki's presence on Midgard is still kept secret, he cannot say the thought of tranquilly entering the room where all the journalists are gathered and greet them good afternoon has not crossed his mind.

But true, sunbathing on the roof of the compound also has its appeal. Loki is lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, whereas Morgan is busy breaking something into small pieces next to him.

"Chocolate." She informs, not him, but the person on her left "Want some?"

"I don't know what it is." Nebula warns.

"It's tasty, that's all you have to know." Morgan chuckles.

Then, she hands Loki the bar, already broken into several smaller pieces.

Not as sweet as he would have thought, but good anyway.

"It's... tasty..." Nebula hesitantly approves.

"Eighty percent, my favourite." Morgan grins "If you ever leave the Earth, fill your spaceship with that."

"_If_ I leave?" Nebula raises.

"Well, you could very well stay."

"And what would I even do here?" The cyborg sighs.

"No idea." Morgan laughs "But that's the beauty of living, right? Though just in case we happen not to see each other again for a long time, I think you'll need that more than me."

Loki immediately recognizes the item Morgan is handing Nebula. A small object normally fitting around four phalanxes, but only composed of two rings. The (broken but still effective) Vibranium knuckle-duster Morgan has fought with more than once.

As for Nebula, her face bears a mix of emotions, from surprise to incomprehension. It probably is the first time she ever receives a gift.

"Thank you." She whispers.

"Thank _you_, most of all." Morgan insists "You saved my life more than I can count, those past few hours."

"I can confirm." Loki smiles.

"So, this Wanda Maximov, she's gone?" Nebula checks, apparently more reassured than bothered.

"I'm afraid so." Morgan winces.

"Do you actually happen to be _worried_ about her?" Loki frowns.

The Witch is gone indeed, and it is for the best. How can Morgan even think about helping her, after what she did to her, no later than the night before?

"I think she is about to do the exact same kind of mistakes I did." Morgan calmly lets out "Loneliness alone does not solve anything. But _that_ can't be learnt by force."

"What did you tell Romanov?" Loki queries.

"I told her that looking for the manifestation of Wanda's powers probably isn't the best strategy. Despite everything she is able to do, she is still human. So, if she left, I guess she is probably going to look for something."

"And what would that be?"

"How would I know?" Morgan laughs.

Loki breathes out. Alright. He cannot say that the Witch is completely different from him either.

"_Do you think I'm a monster?"_

How difficult it is, he acknowledges, to look at the person beneath these colossal powers.

The sound of footsteps progressively coming towards them make them simultaneously turn their head to the right. The god of Mischief is slightly surprised, but not overly wary. So far, he did not have many occasions to talk to Buchanan (Bucky, apparently?) Barnes, who mostly stayed alongside Rogers and Wilson.

Also, he has noticed the unspoken but very tangible tension between Barnes and Stark, at least during the first days of their stay in the compound. Obviously, the Avengers are far from spared by internal conflicts and rivalries, and _that one_ seems to have much deeper roots.

But that does not mean Loki harbours any antipathy, nor that he is devoid of curiosity towards the man.

"Why the roof?" Barnes questions, to no one in particular.

"Why not?" Morgan retorts "Care to join this group of outcasts? We have chocolate."

Barnes laughs, which is already rare in itself (the man is, most of the time, taciturn at best, a ghost at worst) then, after a few seconds of hesitation, sits down next to Loki.

"So, I presume you are also supposed to remain dead, until further notice." The god of Mischief smirks, eager to learn more about the newcomer.

"I'm used to that already." Barnes admits.

"Dying?" Loki dubiously sneers.

"Believe or not. It's not just gods' prerogative."

Too bad they spoke so late. Barnes definitely is more entertaining that his friend Rogers.

"How long do you think this conference is going to take?" Morgan queries.

"No idea. Hours, probably." Barnes assumes.

"And I guess no one is especially happy with that?"

"What do you have in mind, exactly?" Loki smiles, as Morgan stands up, followed by the curious gazes of Barnes and Nebula.

"Doing a good deed, for once." Morgan beams.

"I have a bad feeling." Barnes concedes.

"I have a good feeling." Loki cannot help acknowledging.

Morgan says nothing and closes her eyes, then rests the tip of her fingers on her temples. And...

Nothing, really, _nothing_ remarkable happens.

"Very anticlimactic." Loki comments, as she sits down again, her legs swaying a little but apart from that, looking as tireless as usual.

"Shush. Listen and enjoy." She smirks.

Loki, alongside Nebula and Barnes, remains completely silent for a handful of seconds, and are these exclamations here and there, not of pain, but of surprise and frustration?

"... Does it work for you?!" An unidentifiable voice resonates.

"No! Phones and cameras are all out!"

"Why a fucking _blackout_ now?!"

Loki turns towards Morgan, who displays nothing else than a wide grin.

"I think now they can call me their saviour." She proclaims.

"If I were you, I would not go down from this roof for a couple of hours." Barnes advises, torn between amazement and amusement.

"I don't think she really cares." Nebula lucidly points out.

Loki can only approve. In any case, they will go somewhere. New Asgard, Norway, leading the way.

Is it going to be easy? Of course not. Is he looking forward to it? Obviously.

A part of him thinks that this seems to be quite an adequate end. Yet, what prevails remains this constant call for movement, chaos and wonder, since this is what mischief is about after all, reminding him that this so-called end comes way too early. There is surely more to come.

_Then, let's find out._

The End?

* * *

**Hey again! I hope you enjoyed this fic, though obviously the plot was not as clear, far from it, as Whatever-its-name. But I hope that at least I've explored the aftermath of such an intense battle, this confusing state of mind everyone is in, where sufferings are supposed to be over and yet are not exactly over.**

**Some precisions here and there:**

**When Tony nicknames Loki "Claudius", it is a reference to Shakespeare's famous play **_**Hamlet**_** (Claudius is Hamlet's uncle, and has murdered his brother to usurp the throne of Denmark). I know it's a bit far-fetched but in the first Avengers movie, Tony makes constant references to this specific play (he even quotes it at some point), so why not. When he calls Loki "Hannibal Lecter" in chapter 7, it's a reference to the movie Silence of the Lambs. As for the nickname "the Wicked Morgan of the West", it's an allusion to **_**The Wizard of Oz**_**. In short, looking for nicknames Tony might use is a very tricky job! **

**Wanda's personality disorder is inspired (very freely though) from the comic books **_**House of M**_**. Read it, it's pretty cool.**

**I don't specifically advise you to play **_**Panic! At the Disco**_** like Morgan did in the previous chapter, but seriously, if you're ever afraid or ill-at-ease at the doctor/dentist/blood donation place/whatever medical consultation you've got to take, put on your favourite song in the background. Funny, how such a small detail really improves your mood.**

**To conclude, if you are confined due to the current epidemic, well, maybe you'll have some time to leave me a final review (just trying) and I wish you health, fun, and all the best!**


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